■Mm 


CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  r.  croreproductions  historiques 


1999 


■c^Vfftc' 


I<:^ 


m 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


Q 


□ 


n 


n 


n 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverlure  de  couleur 


□    Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommagee 

□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pelliculee 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

I  -.  I   Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geograpniques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Relie  avec  d'autres  docu.Tients 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
interieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  Use  peut  que  cenaines  pages 
blanches  ajoutees  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  eta:t 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ete  filmees. 

Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  supplementaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire qui  sont  peut-fetrc  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  metho- 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 

Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I I   Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagees 


D 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pellicul6es 


I     y  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
I I    Pages  d^colorees,  tachetees  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached  /  Pages  detachees 

Iv' I   Showthrough / Transparence 

I      I   Quality  of  print  vanes  / 


D 
D 


n 


Quality  inegale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplemento  /  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl6mentaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partiellement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  6te  filmees  a  nouveau  de  fa?on  a 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
filmees  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilleure  image 
possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below  / 

Ce  dociiment  est  ?i!me  eu  taiix  de  reduction  indique  ei-desso-s. 


lOx 


14x 


18x 


22x 


26x 


30x 


/ 


12x 


16x 


20x 


24x 


28x 


32x 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grace  ^  la 
gAnArosit6  de: 


National  Library  of  Canada 


Bibliotheque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  AtA  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin.  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  ei 
da  la  nertetA  de  l'exemplaire  filmA,  et  en 
conformit*  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimAe  sont  filmis  en  commencant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derni^re  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commencant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniAre  page  qui  comports  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning   "CON- 
TINUE:" '),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "'END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  dea  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ♦-  signifie   "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie   "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  etre 
filmAs  ^  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film^  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  ^  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d"images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

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TRANS-HIMALAYA 


i)isc()\  i.Rii.s  AM)   .\I)\'i:m  iKi:s 
IN    iiMi:r 


BY 


SVKN    H  1:1)1  M 


wild     ;ss     II.I.USIR  AlIONS     FROM     I'HOTOCRA  l>H  S,    WATER- 

COLOIK   SKElCHtS,   AND    IJRAWINCS    UV   THE   AUTHOU 

ANIJ    111   MAI'S 


IN     TWO    \()LUMi:S 
VOL.    11 


^tto  gorfe 
IHK    MACMILLAN    COiMPANY 

1909 

jill  r:,-'.ii   reterviJ 


C'irVRlGHT,    ir^'vo, 

ByIHK    MACMII.I.AN    COMPANY. 
Sel  ui)  aiui  tlc^lrolyi.eJ.     ruhli,h.;d  Uccuiilber.  l.jOQ. 


J    S.  ('usliinf  ,  .1  —  111  I  \i  ilk  A;  ^ulith  Co. 
N„r«u..,l.  Mii>...  f.s  A. 


CO NTH NTS 


c:  1 1 A  p  r  K  K  X  X  X  v 


Im.mikkl)  Monks 


PAl.H 
I 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

OVIR    TIIK    Cl!.\NG-LA-P0D-LA 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

TaRGO-CANGRI    and    TIIK    SlIURi;-T>,i^ 


-3 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

To   the   Outi.i.t   oi'    thk  Chaktak-tsangpo    in    thf    Rraiima- 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 
MniAMKn  Isa"s  Death  .... 


52 


CHAPTER    XL 


\!(i\G    BVWAVS    TO    TraDUM 


64 


CHAPTER    XLI 


,1 


A  Peep  into  Nepal 


7; 


•^  ■-'^^.(*w|.PHW!l|^95uipswirr- 


\i 


'!RAXS  HIMALAYA 


CHAPTER    XF,n 

In  Sk.\i;(  II  or   iin;  Siiii;i  i;  or    iiik   likAiiMAi'UTRA 


PACI 
89 


CHAl'ri'.R    XL  11 1 

'l"nr.  SorKu:  of   rur.  S\(  !;i.i)   Rivki,' — A   DirAKTURF, 


99 


CHAl'TER    XL IV 
A  XuiiiT  o.s  ^L\^A^Al•;ll\VAI< 


CHAPTER    XLV 


Mori-;  Lake  Voyages 


CHAPTER    XLV  I 
A  Stormy  Voyage  over    iiie  Hoiv  Lake  . 


133 


<•  HA  PIER    XL\1I 

On  the  Roor  or    itie  (Io^m'e  Munaitry 


144 


CHAl'TER    XLV  I  II 
Ot  R  Lam    Days  on  'IVo-mavang 

CHAPTER    XII  X 

AliVENTIKKS    ON    L  ANr,  \  k-l  .-o 


•54 


166 


CHAPTER    L 

The  Soiiu  e  01     1  i;i:  ,sr  1 1  fi 


COXTEXTS 

CHAPTER    LI 

PlIORIMAGE    ROUND    K.\N(;-l<INI'(KnK 


VI  i 


.8.; 


CHAPTER    I.I  I 


( »M  Mam   Pad.me  Hum 


CHAPTER    LIII 

I'llK    DlSeOVKKY    OK    Tilt:    SoUkCK    OF    THE    I.Mirs 


A  Resolution 


A   Xf.w  Chapter 


CHAPTER    LIV 


CHAPTER   LV 


2'5 


226 


CHAPTER    LVI 

I'l'    TO    THE    HeKWITS    oE    DaESANO 


237 


CHAPTER    LVII 

"v  THE  Roof  of  the  World 


248 


CHAPTER    LVIIl 

ortv  Degrees  pelow  Zero 


25S 


CHAPTER    LIX 


IN    THE    bNOW 


267 


vm 


TRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAI'TER   LX 

DK.ATir   OF    rllK    I.A^T    \'ktkran 


PAGE 

272 


CHAPTER  LXI 


Tiiiu  rv   I '  \vs  OF  Storm 


282 


CHAPTER   LXII 

Advf.xturf.s  of  Ouksflvks  and  Puppy  in  Nagrong 


292 


CHAPTER   LXI  1 1 

Through  tiif,  Hig:ii.ant)s  of  Bongba 


302 


CHAPTER   LXIV 


TsoNGPUN  Tashi 


313 


CHAPTER  LXV 

BrPTsxNG-rsAXGrn,    onk    of     iiif    i.argkst      Rivers     of     the 

I  Ikakf  of  'I'ir.KT ^21 


CHAPTER   LXVI 

In  the  RoBiiKRs'  Paradise 


332 


CHAPTER  LXVII 


Aprii,  24 


343 


CHAPTER    LXVIII 
His  ExtEi.i.ENLV  Tin;  (;ovi.kn(.r  of  Saka 


353 


mt 


rfr"~'-?^M^'^-  .  >A^j^i>i4k^' 


IX 


COX'lEXTS 
CHAPTER  LXIX 

Kamha  Tsenam,  Father  of  the  Robbers 

CHAPTER   LXX 


TiiF,    Seventh    Crossing    of    the    Trans-Himai.aya  —  to    the 

Heavenly  Lake  u       he  Throne  Mountain        .         .        .     374 


PACE 

•     3^4 


CHAPTER   LXXI 
Another  Journey  across  the  White  Patch 

CHAPTER  LXXII 
The  Last  Days  in  Unknown  Country 

CHAPTER   LXXIII 
The  Trans-Himalaya 


3»S 


395 


401 


CHAPTER  LXXIV 
Simla 415 

INDEX 425 


I 


m^^  'mmMi 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


J 


iS,,. 

i.ji. 

'93' 

■';;• 
19S. 

199. 

200, 


/■'n>)!fl^/'ir 


S\cn  Hrdin    ........ 

Ilcriiii;'^  CrdttiMirnr  tin:  ('l);\nL;-l;i-I'c)(l-la       .  .  .  . 

KolHTt   and    Kahsan;;   liy  the    Ice  on   thu  Way  to  llic   ('lian;^- 

Ia-1'od-la 

A  I,hacl>c  decked  with  .Mani-Stcines  and  Trav  LT-Strcanicrs 
194.    .\(jniads  sonth  of  TaiLjo-^'an;,'!!         .... 

Menilicant  I.ama  hlowin;;  on  a  Ihunan  Hone 

'I"il)etan  Hoy  ......... 

Kuhi-j;an^ri  from  ('ani[)  201  ...... 

'l"ar-o-,:,'an,L;ri  from  a  Hill  near  Camp  150        . 

The    t'homo-uchcjni,'   (Jroiip   from   the    Kinchen-!.-',   May   23 

'V07 

Luiulup's   Sfiuadron.      'I'o  the  left    a    part   of    'l\ir;4i^-'4angri 

Camp  I  ;o  . 


201.    Lundnpion  horseback  to  the  left)  and   his   Ketini;c   pr 

nie  from  proceeding  to  the  Dangra-yiim-tso 
20i,  203,  204.    Targo-gangri  from  the  South    .  .         .  . 

20:;.    'I'lic  Shm-ii-tso.  with  Targo-jrangri  in  the  Uackgroimd     . 
2of).    ( >n  the  ('[iper  Kaga-tsangpo  ....,, 

207.  .Vngdeivla       ......... 

208.  Chomo  iichong  from  the  East 

209.  210.    Angden-la,  a  I'ass  on  the   Trans-IIimalava 


M 


an  is  on  the  Way  to  the  Angdenda 


212.  ('homo-iichung 

213.  Panorama   from  the   Ding-la.      The   I!rahmai)utra  X'alley  and 

the  Himalayas  in  the  liackgroimd       .... 

214.  liegirar  at  Ta.shi-geinbe 


iS 
18 
24 
24 
24 
26 
26 


28 


34 
36 
36 

3f' 
38 
40 

44 


44 

50 


XI 


Xll 


TK.WS  HIMALAYA 


-'7 


--3 


229, 

230, 

^3'- 

-3-- 

-33- 

-'34- 

-35- 
236. 

23,S. 

239- 
J40. 

J41. 

242. 


.-13, 
-'  !  '  '  • 

2.tS. 

249. 


.    Noun-  'ril)rtaii  nt  llic  Month  of  the  Chaklnk-lsnn-po 

.  Waiulcilii-  Lain.,  uitli  a  Wc.kIcm  Clove  in  his  Hand  su.  h 
as  is  nscd  to  protict  the  Hands  in  the  I'n.stration 
l'il^riniai;e  ronnd  tlie  Holy  Mountain  Kailas 

.    'i'lie  Coijjse  of  Mulianitcl  Isa 

.    Mnhaniul  Isa's  Funeral  I'r.jeession 

.  -•-•'.),  _-2r.    The  Interment  of  Muhainedj, a 
Unman    at    the     Mouth     .,f     the     thaktak-tsan^po    in    th: 

'l'^^>ii;,1i<> 

Tibetan  of  S.ika 

I.ama  in  Saka-d/onj;; 

22G.    227,    22,S.      Tibetan     Hoys    and    CJirls    of    Saka    am 

Traduni 

Woman  of  Nyiikii 

Two  Tihetans 

The  (iova  of  Tuksnm 

C.irl  at  Tasa-^'uk 

\'ie\v  from  the  Kore-la  towards  the  South-West 

(iuiam  Ra/nl's  'J'ents  in  Cartok 

Landscape  in  Tpfier  Nepal 

A  Chhorien  in  Nepal      .... 
(;ronp  of  I'ibetan  Women       .... 
Women  in  the  Milage  of  Namla 

Inhabitants  of  the  Villa-e  of  Namla 
Lama  in  my  Boat 

Loadm-  the   Hoat  with  Boxes  on  crossing  the  Brahmapntra 
ranornma  of  Kubi-gan-ri  and  the  Lan-ta-chen  (ilacier,  with 

thu  Source  of  the  Brahmapntra  (from  a  height  of  16,453 

feet,  July  13.  1907) 

^^t.  2  15.    The  Mountains  at  the  Source  of  the  Brahmaputra 
i  i!»;aiis  on  the  Bank  of  the  .Soma-tsangpo 
'■roup  of  Natives  of  Langmar 
!<obert  in  the  Boat 

Sheep-shearing  at  Tugu  gompa  on  the  Manasarowar       . 


so 


SO 
54 
5^' 


('\ 
('\ 
('i 

70 
74 
74 
74 
74 

7« 
.S2 
X2 

«^ 

S4 
ss 

8S 
9- 
9- 


102 
106 
1 10 
1 10 
1 18 
I -'4 


'^mff-^^ 


mm 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Xlll 


i 


-  ?  > 

-*  .■^  5 ' 
-■5'' 
-57 

2t,0. 
2  III. 

2(,(,. 

:67. 

2(t(). 
.70. 


;74- 


76. 


.•7S. 
■7")- 


The  find  (if  the  Lake  risiii;:;  frniii  Tao-mavan" 

Tciiiple  Hall  of  tlie  l.akc-CJnd  df   I'm)  iiia\aii^' 

('hcMrcsis  Iiiiajje  in  'riii,'u-;;oiii|ia  . 

'I'iie  I.hakan;,'  Hall  in  'rii'^U{,'onipa 

I.aiiia  uit'i  I'rayer-I  )ri'm  .... 

I.ania  before  the  'J'einple  Door  in  TiiKU-goinpa 

Van^j;o-gompa 

Interior  of  the  'I'einple.  'I'ti^'ii 

A  lireanur.     Lama  in  \'an;;;;()-;;onipa  on  NLiiiab. 

■|'he  old  Nun  in  \'an;,'<;o-^'oiiiiia 

The  Holy  Lake  Manasarowar  from  Tngu-f;onipa, 

in  the  I!ackj;round 

lioy  on  the  I'pper  Tsan^'po    .... 
The  young  Prior  of  Langbo-nan     . 
Tenii)le  N'essels  in  Chiu-gonipa 
Two  Cliildreti  in  .Shigatse      .... 
K alias  behind  Nyandi  gonipa 

My  Tack  Sheep 

I'art  of  Kailas 

Kailas  from  l)iri-pu        ..... 
Contluence  of  the  Two  .\rm.s  of  the  L.dus 
Tibetan  Female  rilgrinis  at  Kailas 
I'he  C;ova  by  \vho>e  help  the  .Source  of  the   Ind 

covered  (seated)  and  Tibetans  at  Kailas     . 
Cnilani  Razul  beside  Bales  of  Chinese  IJrick-T.  a 
Tibetan  Tent  ...... 

Monastery  of  Gar-gunsa  .... 

Images  at  Chushut 

The  Policemen  from  Simla     .... 

My  Boat  on  the  Indus 

Ladaki  Women 

280,  281.    At    the    Monastery   Door    in    Tashi-^ai 

Gartok  and  Ladak 

Dancing  Pilgrim  Women   in   Chushut.  a  \  iu.i^e 

back  ti  Ladak  . 


nvar 

ith  Kaila 


s  v.as  dis- 


between 


1  niv  wav 


'34 
»3t 
'38 
140 
140 
146 
1 46 
148 


'52 
162 
162 
166 
166 
170 
170 

'74 

182 
182 
1 88 

'94 
.98 

202 
202 
202 

20(> 
206 
206 

210 


MV 


IK.W.s  II1M.\1..\\A 


-  >' ' 

-'.VJ 

-.U 

-,u 

-\vS 

-\^'! 

.     C' 

'our 

,/ 

~  .">     ' 

.  (•<• 

'.'„,: 

,/ 

j;S 

jS',.  {  )|,|  W,, II, ,111 

^■'■>  |.  I..i:ha  III  (  liii-,hiii  ....... 

.■>!;.  I  III  ilic  \\.i\  Id   r.inksc    ....... 

-••■'''•  I"  ll.i     lliiii.>   \  .liir;, oil  tllr  u.n    I,,  I..i,l;i|.. 
-••'■i;.      I  lie  11    v.    IImI  ..  ,  ,111(1    Mill,'  ,  ,11    I  »iu-lili 

J.S.S.       knllrll     in     \\  llilor    I  lies., 

-•S.;.      ,\li(|lll    kcl  illl.    lllr   IHW    (    ,ll,l\,lll    l,r,l(lc|- 

•"''■•■')'.■•'»••    I  "I'-. 111-.  (illl, nil,  Kiitii^ -- III)  List  irn-i\    InlliAVLr- 

-•vv    I"'.,'-;'"'-' 

J')  |.    .Miilnl  Kci  iiii'^  WW  'I'lni 
-•1)5.    .M)   Di./uii  I'lippy  Willi  my  Ciiok.  'rstriii;^ 
-"/'•  -";;.  -'.y>i.    M.\  \Miitr  I„ul,iki  ll,,rsi- 
2')i).    I'.iniir, 1111,1  lioiii  Ciini)  )_•_•.  D.in-ln 
,r^".    I'.iiioiMiiKi  limii  Ciiii])  :--^,  .Sli\,,k  \',illcy 

,V'l.      \  icU    llulll    Clmi,   yq        .... 

y.2.    Tile  Mii.ill  N,iii  l.akr  Miuili  ,,f  Camp  y.A) 

V'.V    IIorMs  -(lini,' I.,  (liink  al  llir   Lake  luar  Caiiip  ,^  i    .     .M^dul 

Knimcn  the  left        ......     <.','I,<!(>,\I 

2,o\.    .■M.miil.iin   .\..i  ili-l'a-,!  of  (amp  310;  tlir  frohwalc  r  Lake  in 
tliL'  I  iii(L;iiiini(l  ......     C<>!i<iii;J 

.^05.    Sturm   CI'  ,  Is   ()\cr   thu    Siiuuy   MdUiitains   xjiali   of   Camj) 

.''-' L\uoun\l 

,306.    Cam])  ',,',7        ........ 

,^07.    Cimp;;-^.     'i'lic  hcuinniiiL;  of  a  St.irm  .... 

,Vj'S.    Ciiiip;,'-.     l.t  nil  lum-iso,  looking;  I-'.ast         .... 

,^-.9.    Camp  1-1.      Kaiielnin---an-ri  from  the  .Xoiih 

,^10.     My  Uyin-  I'miy 

311.    Lost  Irx'iiid  l\rio\cry    ....... 

.i'-'-    ■■  "  ill'-  lontiniiis  a  fi.u  daxs  longer,  v.c  aro  lost  " 

3  I  J-  3'  !■  .^i,s-  ii'''.  ,?i  7.    !'auoiama>  from  tlu-  Cairp-.  ;  iS,  ^^j.  3^5, 

3v).  3('j;   in  tin  List  two,  Sh.i-k.iii-sliam     .... 

31S.    'I'lic  .\mliMr  as  a  ."-liipluid 

319.  3J0.  3-M.    TIk'   Summits  of    Luiipo-;aiij;ii  fro, 11    Camps   37,;. 

3.S1.  .111(1  3,S3       ..... 


I  A'.R 

J  1 6 


-'vS 


2G4 

-'68 

270 

2S4 

298 

r.2G 


^^^^^n^vTT^^oi5T5?^S^ 


:^<?f  i  ^  r^  :-:^;---^-v.,s:;.- 


1 


ILMMKAIIO.VS 


',.'.'.    Wn -llin;; 

5?  i.  I'uij  (iiiidrs     ........ 

•,.'  (.     I;.  i\   uilh  1 1, It 

•,_'5.  >ll(|illru|    lliiy            ....... 

,-'^.    .SoiKiiii  .\-iiiliii.  Cliiif  of  tlu'  ('link(  hu  TruviniL' 
■,.■7.    I  )Mri  lit'   l\uin.  (Icni  iiKir  iif  tlic  S.ik.i   l'i.i\iiui' 
-,.'S.    M.iti  uiih  ,1  sinful. ii   ('.ip,  in  .Si.ii.imi  N.;iirlin\  Ksccit 
;_■.;.     I'a^l.x   'I'MTin;;,   tlu'   (hii  I    who   rrluscd   i,,   let   iiic   '^o  to  tin 
I  ).im;;i.i  \  uni  Iso  ....... 

^  VJ-     I  laxrllili;;  I.Mci.iki  Mi.rrli;\m  in  \\\sl    Tihci      . 
i;i.    • '.ui.l;  (Jsf,  Son  of  tin- (Ju\i  riior  of  S.ika 

.^■,.'.    I'.inchor.  the   V.iksla) t.r,  my  (iuidc   on  the  Journey  to   thi 
Terinain-lso       ........ 

;?15.    \\oin,in  of  \'iMuli,i-nuitsen       ...... 

V,  t-    'I'ilietans  with  \aks 

;',5.    I  Ion  he 'I'muii  on  the  .March  ...... 

Vi''.    I'.uewell     I'.nleri.iinnient     for     tlie     Tibetans     on     Niav    j 

")o>^ ' 

.vi7'  3,y'^-  ,i,i'^  .if'J-    'I"he     Dancers    at    the    CaMii)!iro:     Tub^'es 
Kunchuk.  Suen  ........ 

341.    Inner  Coun  of  Selipuk 

j;(j.    Dorche 'I'suen  and  N-av  ant;  on  Horseback    . 

315.     I'h..' .\iithor  in  Tibetan  l)re,s 

3U.  3*5-    ■Soldiers   of  the   (;arri>on    of   Saka-il/ont;,  belon;;in<;   tc 
our  K>c(jrt  ........ 

,3(Cj.    .\rnied  Tibetan  from  the  ('oiintry  between   the  Teri-namtso 

and  the  1  )an^'ra-\uni-tso 

;,  17.    I!oy  with  small  C.iin  on  the  Southern  Shore  of  the  Teri-nani-tso 

3  (S.    Trooper  of  the  Fscort 

M'j.    Tibet.in  (if  Teri-nain-tso 

.150.    \'oiiii^  Shepherd  of  Hongha 

351.   (niests  at  the  Opening  n[  my  Tent  on  the  Hank  of  the  Teri 
nam-tsf)       ........ 

35.'.    '1  he  Vaks  folding  the  river  Soma-tsanjjpo 


3,1  ■ 
33-' 
V.I 
33  1 
3i4 

.U\ 
3»o 
3»o 

34>3 
34^J 
34t 
341 

34.S 

350 
3.S4 
354 

3S^ 

360 

360 

3O0 
3(i4 
3^^ 
3^'4 

366 
366 


!;u 


hi\ 


XVI 


IKAXS-IIIMALAVA 


353-    Niin-i   Taslii,  C-.nni.iiul.  r  <,f  Hk-  (;„v.rnnicnt  Kscort  on  the 


359- 
360. 


Colon)  III 
Co/oii>t\i 
Co/oiirf,/ 


3''3. 

3^S- 
3f)('). 

367. 

36.S. 

3^'9- 

37>3- 

37'- 

37-'- 

373- 

374. 
375- 
37f'. 
,V>1- 
37'J- 
3S0. 
3.S1. 
3-S-^ 


w»y  t(i  llu'   Ti/ri  iiam-tv)      .... 

Nun-,  of  Mcndoii^'  •  .  .  . 

A  lli-li  L.un.i  of  Chokcliii      .... 

Tlic  I'riur  of  .S<Ii|)iik 

r«o  l.,iiii,i>,  of  .Mciidoiif;  .... 
•My  .Sheep  crossiiif;  the  Kivvr  .Som;i-ts.in{;po  . 
Villa-c  liclow  I.iiiikar-^'.niipa  011  the  T.iruk-tso 
Meiulon;;  .Monastery  west  of  tlic  IVrinam-tso 
.Selij.uk  .Monastery  Soulli-Webl  of  the  Nganglarin-tsr 

Ci>/ou>ril 
Holiday    Costumes   and    Ornaments    of  Tibetan  Women    of 


Coloured 
Coloured 


Kyan{,'raM- ;n  the  Trans-Himalaya     .         .         .     Coloured 
■    Crossintj  ">i--  Kangsham  River 

.    The  \illa-e  of  I.unkar 

.   (Iroiip  of  Tibetans  at  the  Teri-iiam-ts  )    . 

The  Villa-e  of  Lui.kar  from  the  Temple  Hill 

The  southern  Shore  of  Manasarowar  with  -razin-  \ak.s 

I.unkar-n;ompa         .  .         .  _ 

Selipuk  ;;ompa        .... 

The  Trans-Himalaya  from  Abukla 

Storm  over  the  Trans-Himal.iya 

•Sonam  .\j;„rbu  and  his  Follouers  on  Horseback 

•Some    of    our    Hor.es    on    the    way    to    Kamba    Tsenam's 
Tent  ..... 

Lama  of  Chokthu  takin-  leave  of  the  Prior  of  Seiipuk 

Lama  of  Chokthu  on  Horseback 
377.    Hoys  sitting     .         .         _         _ 

\oun;;  Lama  .  .         , 

<  '111  Woman   . 

C'-'lonelT.  (;.  Montgomerie    ... 

Abb.:-  \\\xc     .        .        _        _ 

Altar  Table  uuii  I,„.ig.s  of  (;ods  in  Mangnang-gompa 

Coloured 


^' 

^( 
3' 
3'' 
37 
37 
37 
37 

37 

37- 
37f 
37'^ 
37S 
38-' 
38-' 
386 

386 
388 
388 
392 

392 
396 
39<5 

398 
39S 

398 

404 
404 

406 


ILLUSr  RATIONS 


XVI 1 


vSj.   The  Author  in  Tibetan  Costume  at  the  Mission  Sution  in 

''"o 408 


^Sj.   The  last  Members  of  the  last  Expedition  in  Poo     . 

JS5.    My  I'uppy 

VS6.   Takkar  in  his  new  Home  with  the  Missionaries  in  Poo 

3.S7.   Simla 

388.   The  last  Members  of  the  Expedition  at  the  Entrance  of  the 

Viceregal  Lodge  in  Ssimla 420 


41a 
416 

416 
418 


374 

374 
37<'' 
37» 
37S 
38-' 
38-' 
386 
386 
388 
388 
392 


MAPS 

8.  The  Sources  of  the  Brahmaputra,  Sutiej,  and  Indus. 

9.  A  Map  of  the  Trans-Himalaya  by  Dr.  Sven  Hedin. 

10.   A  Map  of  Tibet  showing  Dr.  Sven  Hedin's  Routes,  1906-1908. 
(^/  end  of  Volume.) 


392 
39f> 
39<J 
398 
39S 
39S 
404 
404 


<iU 


CHArXER    XXXV 


nnruRKD  monks 


We  had  heard  of  a  lama  who  had  Hved  for  the  hist  three 
years  in  a  cave  in  the  valley  above  the  monastery  of 
Linga,  and  thou.uh  I  knew  that'  I  should  not  be  allowed  to 
see  eitlur  the  monk  or  the  interior  of  his  ;;hastlv  dwelling, 
I  would  not  miss  the  opportunity  of  at  least  gaining  some 
slight  notion  of  how  he  was  housed. 

On  April  i6,  1907,  eighteen  months  to  a  dav  after  I 
had  left  Stockholm,  drean'  windy  weathei  prevai'led,  with 
thickly  tailing  snow  and  dense  clouds.  We  rode  up  to 
Linga.  past  rows  of  fine  chhortcns,  left  the  last  dormitories 
behind  us,  saw  an  old  tree  trunk  painted  white  and  red, 
passed  a  small  pool  with  crystal -clear  sj)ring  water  thinly 
frozen  over,  and  heaps  of  mani  stones  with  streamer  poles, 
and  then  arrived  at  the  small  convent  Samde-puk,  built 
on  the_  very  point  of  a  spur  between  two  sifle  vallevs.  It 
IS  alhliated  to  the  Linga  monastery,  and  has  onlv  four 
brethren,  who  all  came  to  greet  me  heartily  at  the  entrance. 

It  is  a  miniature  copy,  outwardly  and  inwardlv,  of  those 
we  have  seen  before.  The  dukau'i;,  has  onlv  three  pillars 
and  one  divan  for  the  four  mcjnks,  who  read  the  mass 
t(tg(ther.  nine  prayer  cylinrlers  of  medium  size  which  are 
set  m  motion  by  leathern  straps,  a  drum  and  a  gong,  two 
masks  with  diadems  of  skulls,  and  a  row  of  idols,  among 
which  may  be  recognized  several  co|)ies  of  Chenresi  and 
Sekiya   Kongma,  the  chief  abbot  of  Sekiva. 

•V    few   steps   to   the   south-west   we   passed    over  a   sheet 
:if  schist   with   two  stone   huts  at    its   foot   r(!n!;!inip.!'  bri'.'^h 
wood    and    twigs    for    burning.     In    Samde-pu-pe    were    two 

VOL.  n  ,  ^ 


TRAXS-HLMALAYA 


CHAP. 


small  temples  with  altars  of  mud.  In  one  of  them  were 
idols  of  medium  si/x-  and  sea  shells,  and  before  them 
incense  smouldered,  not  in  the  usual  form  of  sticks,  but  in 
powder.  It  was  strewn  in  a  zigzag  line,  was  lighted  at 
one  end.  and  allowed  to  smoulder  away  to  the  other, 
\\  ithin  was  a  statue  of  Lovun  with  two  lights  before  it,' 
and  a  shelf  with  writings  called  Chona.  Rain  water  had 
percolated  in  and  formed  white  vertical  channels  in  the 
plaster,  and  under  the  ceiling  kadakhs  and  draperies 
lluttered  in  the  draught.  Here  the  mice  were  less  dis- 
turbed  than  in  the  ghostly  castle   Pesu. 

Close  at    hand    at    the    foot    of    the    mountain     is    the 
hermitage,    dupkaui^,    in    which    a    hermit    spends    his   days 
and  years.     It  is  built  over  a  spring  which  bubbles  up  in 
the   centre   of   the   single    room,    a    square    apartment    with 
each_  side  five  paces  long.     The  walls  are  verv  thick,   and 
are  in   one  solid   mass,   unbroken  ])v  windows.'    The  door- 
way IS  very  low,  and  the  wooden  door  is  shut  and  locked  ■ 
but    that    IS    not  enough,  so    a    wall    of    large  blocks   and 
smaller   stones    has   been    built    before   the   door,   and    even 
the   smallest   interstices   between   them   have   been   carefullv 
lilled    up   with   pebbles.     x\ot   an   inch   of  the  door  can   be 
^'^u^u    u '^        . '^   ^^'^   entrance   is   a    tiny   tunnel    through 
which  the  hermit's  food  can  be  pushed  in.     The  amount  of 
daylight    which    can    penetrate    through     the    long    narrow 
loophole   must    be    very   small;    and    it   does   not   shine   in 
direct,  for  the  front  of  the  hut  is  shut  in  bv  a  wall,  forming 
a    small    court,    which    only    the    mo.,k   'who    brings    the 
anchorite    his    daily    ration    may    enter.     A    small  chimney 
rises  from  the  flat  roof,   for  the  hermit  mav  make  himself 
tea   every   .si.xth   day.    and    for   this   purpo.se '  some   sticks   of 
nrewood    are    pu.shed    through    the    loophole    twice    in    the 
month.     Through    the    chimney,    too,    a    feeble    light     may 
fall  and   by  means  of  these  two  vents  the  air  is  renewed 
in  the  Cell. 

,-n  fl^''''n-i-.^l'''  'T'^''  ""^  ^^^  ^^'"^  ^^ho  Js  now  walled  up 
in  tni:   cell .-'     1  asked. 

"Ik    has   no   name,   and   even   if   we   knew  it  we  durst 

T^J}]^'   ''■     r'^   '^^"    '^™    "^^''•^■'>'   ^he    Lama    RinDoch.  ' 
^iLeu.ai.ig  CO    Koppcii,  iama  means    quo  nemo  est  superior, 


XXXV 


IMMURED   MONKS 


one  who  has  no  one  over  him;  and  Rinpoche  means 
gem,  jewel,  holiness). 

"Where  has  he  come  from?" 

"He  was  born  in  Xgor  in  Naktsang." 

"Has  he  relations?" 

"That  we  do  not  know;  and  if  he  has  any,  they  do  not 
know  that  he  is  here." 

"How  long  has  he  lived  in  the  darkness?" 

"It  is  now  three  years  since  he  went  in." 

"And  how  long  will  he  remain  there?" 

"Until  he  dies." 

"Mav  he  icver  come  out  again  into  the  daylight 
before  his  dcn    i?" 

"Xo;  he  has  taken  the  strictest  of  all  oaths,  namely,  the 
sacred  vow  onlv  to  leave  the  cell  as  a  corpse." 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"We  do  not  know  his  age,  but  he  looked  about  forty." 

"But  what  happens  if  he  is  ill?     Cannot  he  get  help?" 

"Xo;  he  may  never  speak  to  another  human  being. 
If  he  falls  ill  he  must  wait  patiently  till  he  is  better  again 
or  dies." 

"You  never  know,  then,  how  he  is?" 

"Xot  before  his  death.  A  bowl  of  tsamha  is  pushed 
every  day  into  the  opening,  and  a  piece  of  tea  and  a  piece 
of  butter  every  sixth  day;  this  he  takes  at  night,  and 
puts  back  the  empty  bowl  to  be  filled  for  the  next  meal. 
When  we  find  the  bowl  untouched  in  the  opening  we  know 
that  the  immured  man  is  unwell.  If  he  has  not  touched 
the  tsamha  the  next  day  our  fears  increase ;  and  if  six  days 
pass  and  the  food  is  not  taken,  we  conclude  he  is  dead  and 
break  open  the  entrance." 

"Has  that  ever  happened?" 

"Yes;  three  years  ago  a  lama  died,  who  had  spent 
twelve  years  in  there,  and  fifteen  years  ago  one  died  who 
had  lived  forty  years  in  solitude  and  entered  the  darkness 
at  the  age  of  twenty.  No  doubt  the  Bombo  h:is  heard  in 
Tong  of  the  lama  who  lived  in  the  hermitage  of  the 
monastery  Lung-gandcn-gompa  for  sixty-nine  years,  com- 
pletely shut  off  from  the  world  and  the' light  of  day." 

•"But  is  it  not  possible  that  the  prisoner  may  speak  to 


i 


TRAXS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


the   monk   who  jjushc's   the  tsamba   dish  into   the  looj^hole? 
There  is  no  witness  present  to  see  that  all  is  correet." 

"That  could  never  happen  and  is  not  allowed," 
answered  my  informant  with  a  smile;  "for  the  monk 
outside  would  he  eternally  (himned  were  ho  to  set  his 
mouth  to  tlie  loophole  and  try  to  talk  to  the  recluse,  and 
the  latter  would  break  the  charm  if  he  spoke  from  within. 
If  tile  man  in  there  were  to  s])eak  now,  the  three  years  he 
has  passed  tlure  already  would  not  be  ])ut  down  to  his 
credit,  and  he  would  not  like  that.  If,  however,  a  lama  in 
Lini^^a  or  Sam<le  puk  falls  ill,  he  may  write  his  complaint 
and  a  refjuest  fcjr  the  anchorite's  intercession  on  a  piece  of 
paper,  which  is  placed  in  the  tsamba  bowl  and  pushed  into 
the  opeiiin-.  Then  the  reduce  jirays  for  the  sick  man, 
and  11  the  latter  has  faith  in  the  pcjwer  of  prayer,  and  holds 
no  unseemly  conversation  in  the  meantime,  the  intercession 
of  the  Lama  Rinpoche  takes  effect  after  two  davs  and  the 
patient  <,ats  well  ai^^ain.  On  the  other  hand,  the  recluse 
never  makes  any  communication  in  writing." 

"We  are  now  only  a  couple  of  paces  from  him.  Does 
he  not_  hear  what  we  are  saying,  or,  at  least,  that  some  one 
is  talking  outside  his  den?" 

"Xo,  the  sound  of  our  voices  cannot  reach  him,  the 
walls  are  too  thick;  and  even  if  it  were  the  case,  he  would 
not  notice  it,  for  he  is  buried  in  contemplation.  He  no 
longer  _  belongs  to  this  world;  he  ])robablv  crouches  day 
and  night  in  a  corner.  re])eating  prayers "  he  knows  by 
heart,  ()r  reading  in  the  holy  books  he 'has  with   him." 

"'I'hen  he  must  have  enough  light  to  rearl   by?" 

"Yes.  a  small  butter  lamj)  stands  on  a  shelf  before 
two  images,  and  its  light  suffices  him.  When  the  lamp 
goes  out  it  IS  pitch-dark  inside." 

Filled  with  strange  thoughts,  I  took  leave  of  the  monk 
and  went  slowly  d„\vn  the  path  which  the  recluse  had  onlv 
passed  along  once  in  his  life.  Before  us  was  the  splendid 
view  which  miglu  never  (kliglit  his  eves.  When  I  had 
descended  to  the  camp  I  could  not  look  up  the  monastery 
valley  without  thinking  of  the  unfortunate  man  sittin^r  up 
there  in  his  dark   holr. 

Poor,  nameless  unknown  to  any  one,  he  came  to  Linga, 


IMMURED    MONKS 


1 

"3 


where,  he  had  heard,  a  cave-dwelling  stofxl  vacant,  and 
informed  the  monks  that  he  had  taken  the  vow  to  enter 
f(;r  ever  into  chirkness.  When  his  last  (hiy  in  this  world  of 
vanity  (hiwned,  all  the  monks  of  Linj^'a  followed  him  in  deep 
silence,  with  the  solemnity  of  a  funeral,  to  his  grave  in  the 
cave,  and  the  door  was  closed  on  him  for  the  rest  of  his 
life.  T  could  picture  to  myself  the  emarkable  procession, 
the  monks  in  their  red  frocks,  silent  anci  grave,  bending 
their  bodies  forward  and  turning  their  eyes  to  the  ground, 
and  walking  slowly  ste|)  by  stej)  as  though  they  would  let 
the  victim  enjoy  the  sun  and  light  as  long  as  possible. 
Were  they  ins])ired  with  admiration  of  hi.  tremendous 
fortitude,  compared  with  which  everything  I  can  conceive, 
even    dangers    infallibly    leading    to    death,    seems    to    me 

■'nificant?  For,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  less  fortitude  is 
ired  when  a  hero,  like  Hirosc,  blockades  the  entrance 
ot  Port  Arthur,  knowing  that  the  batteries  above  will 
annihilate  him,  than  to  allow  oneself  to  be  buried  alive  in 
the  darkness  for  forty  or  sixty  years.  In  the  former  case  the 
suffering  is  short,  the  glory  eternal;  in  the  latter  the 
victim  is  as  unknown  after  death  as  in  his  lifetime,  and 
the  torture  is  endless,  and  can  only  be  borne  by  a  patience 
of  which  we  can  have  no  conception. 

Xo  doubt  the  monks  escorted  him  with  the  same 
tenderness  and  the  same  sympathy  as  the  priest  feels 
when  he  attends  a  criminal  to  execution.  But  what  can 
have  been  his  own  feelings  during  this  last  pro-iess  in  the 
world.  We  all  have  to  pass  along  this  road,  but  we  do 
not  know  when.  But  he  knew,  and  he  knew  that  the  sun 
would  never  again  shine  warmly  on  his  shoulders  and 
would  never  pnKluce  lights  and  shadows  on  the  heaven- 
kissing  mountains  around  the  grave  that  awaited  him. 

Now  they  have  reached  their  destination  and  the  door 
of  the  tomb  stands  open.  They  enter  in.  spread  a  mat  of 
interlaced  strips  of  cloth  in  a  corner,  set  up  the  images  of 
the  gods,  and  lay  the  holy  books  in  their  place:  in  one 
rnrner  they  place  a  wooden  frame  like  those  go-carts  in  which 
infants  iearn  to  walk,  and  which  he  will  not  use  till  o'eath 
comes  upon  him.  They  take  their  seats  and  recite  prayers, 
not  the  usuni  prayers  for  the  dead,   but  others  which  deal 


" 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


with  the  glorificfl  Hght  and  life  of  Nirvana.  They  rise, 
bid  him  farewell,  go  out  and  close  the  door.  Now  he  is 
alone  and  will  never  hear  the  sound  of  a  human  voice 
except  his  own,  and  when  he  says  his  pravcrs  no  one  will 
be  there  to  hear  him. 

)\'h;it  were  his  thoughts  when  the  others  had  gone, 
and  the  short  hollow  echo  had  died  away  of  the  noise  he 
heard  when  the  d.-ir  was  shut  for  the  last  time,  only  to  l)e 
opened  again  whe-i  he  was  a  corpse?  Perhaps  something 
like  I'roding  has  expressed  in  his  verse: 

Here  hrcaks  the  soul  from  every  bond, 

That  fetter-  to  this  life  its  pinion; 
Here  stari>  tlie  way  to  the  dark  beyond. 

The  land  of  eternal  oblivion. 

He  hears  the  brethren  rolling  the  heavT  stones  to  the 
door  with  levers,  piling  them  up  one  on  another  in  several 
layers,  and  tilling  up  all  chinks  with  smaller  stones  and  frag- 
ments. It  is  not  yet  (juite  dark,  for  there  are  crevices  in  the 
door,  and  daylight  is  still  visible  at  the  upper  edge.  But  the 
wjill  rises.  At  length  there  is  only  a  tiny  opening  through 
which  the  last  beam  falls  into  the  interior  of  his  tomb. 
Does  he  become  desperate;  does  he  jump  up,  thrust  his 
hands  against  the  door  and  trv  to  catch  one  more  glimpse 
of  the  sun,  which  in  another  moment  will  vanish  from  his 
sight  for  ever.''  No  one  knows  and  no  one  will  ever  know; 
not  c'ven  the  monks  who  were  present  and  helped  to  block 
up  the  entrance  can  answer  this  question.  But  he  is  but 
a  man  and  he  saw  how  a  llagstone  was  fitted  over  the  hole 
through  wh,(-h  a  last  ray  of  daylight  fell;  and  now  he  has 
darkness  Ixiore  him,  and  wherever  he  turns  there  is 
impenetrable   darkness. 

He  assumes  that  the  other  monks  have  gone  down 
again  to  Samde-puk  and  Linga.  How  shall  he  pass  the 
evening?  He  need  nut  begin  at  once  to  read  his  holy 
books;  there  is  plenty  of  time  for  that,  perhaps  forty 
years.  He  sits  on  the  mat  and  leans  his  head  against 
tnewali.  .\ow  all  his  reminiscences  come  with  -^reat 
distinctness  into  his  mind.  He  remembers  the  swlntk 
'  '■'   '"■'-    i-^^ii-Uc.      UHi  mam  paanic  hum,     and 


XXXV  IMMURED   MONKS  7 

he  murmurs  half  dreaming  the  holy  syllables,  "Oh!  thou 
jewel  in  the  lotus.  Amen!"  But  only  a  feeble  echo 
answers  him.  He  waits  and  listens,  aiid  then  hearkens 
to  the  voices  of  his  memory.  He  wonders  whether  the  first 
night  is  falling,  but  it  cannot  be  darker  thpn  it  is  already 
in  his  prison,  his  grave.  Overcome  by  the  travail  of  his 
soul,  he  sleeps,  tired  and  weary,  in  his  corner. 

When  he  awakes,  he  feels  hungry,  crawls  to  the  opening 
and  finds  the  bowl  of  tsamba  in  the  tunnel.  With  water 
from  the  spring  he  prepares  his  meal,  eats  it,  and,  when  he 
has  finished,  puts  the  bowl  in  the  loophole  again.  Then 
he  sits  cross-legged,  his  rosary  in  his  hands,  and  prays. 
One  day  he  finds  tea  and  butter  in  the  bowl  and  some 
sticks  }x;sidc  it.  He  feels  about  with  his  hands  and  finds 
the  flint,  and  steel,  and  the  tinder,  and  kindles  a  small  fire 
under  the  tea-can.  By  the  light  of  the  flame  he  sees  the 
interior  of  his  den  again,  lights  the  lamp  before  the  images, 
and  Ix'gins  to  reafl  his  books ;  but  the  fire  goes  out  and 
six  days  must  pass  before  he  gets  tea  again. 

The  days  pass  and  now  comes  autumn  with  its  heavy 
rains ;  he  hears  them  not,  but  the  walls  of  his  den  seem  to 
be  moister  than  usual.  It  seems  to  him  a  long  time  since 
he  saw  the  sun  and  the  daylight  for  the  last  time.  And 
years  slip  by  and  his  memory  grows  weak  and  hazy.  He 
has  read  the  books  he  brought  with  him  again  and  again, 
and  he  cares  no  more  for  them;  he  crouches  in  his  corner 
and  murmurs  their  contents,  which  he  has  long  known  by 
heart.  He  lets  the  beads  of  his  rosarv  slip  through  his 
fingers  mechanically,  and  stretches  out'  his  hand  for  the 
isamha  bowl  unconsciously.  He  crawls  along  the  walls 
feeling  the  cold  stones  with  his  hands,  if  haply  he  may 
find  a  chink  through  which  a  ray  of  light  can  pass.  No, 
he  hardly  knows  now  what  it  is  like  outside  on  sunny 
paths.  How  slowly  time  passes!  Only  in  sleep  docs 
he  forget  his  existence  and  escape  from  the  hopelessness 
(;f  the  present.  And  he  thinks:  "What  is  a  short  earthly 
life  in  darkness  compared  to  the  glorious  light  of  eternity?'' 
The  sojourn  in  darkness  is  only  a  preparation.  Through 
days  and  nights  and  lone  vears  of  solitude  the  pondcrintr 
monk  seeks  the  answer   to  the  riddle  of  life  and  the  riddle 


\4 

m 


8 


TKAXS-HIMALAVA 


of  death,  and  clings  to  the  belief  that  he  will  live  aL'ain 
in  a  glorihed  form  ot  ixisteiice  when  his  peri(xl  of  tri;il  is 
over,  ft  IS  failli  al.jne  which  tan  explain  his  inc(;nteivable 
lortitiide  ol  mind. 

It  is  diflieult   to  picture  to  oneself  the  chan-es  thn-ii-di 
which    the    lama    J)a^.ses    durin-    successive    decades    in    the 
darkness  of  his  cell.     His  si-ht  must  become  weak,  perhaDs 
be  extinguished   altogether.     His   muscles   shrink,    his   senses 
ljec(jme    more    and    more    clouded.     Longing    for    the    li'^ht 
cannot   pur.ue   him   as  a   fixed   idea,   for  it  'is  in   his  power 
to  write  down   his  .Iccision   to  curtail   his  time  of  trial    an.l 
return    to    the  light,  on  <,ne  of    the  leaves  of   his  books' u it h 
a   splinter  dii^ped    in   soot.     He   has  only   to   place   such    a 
paper    in    the    empty    tsamlm    bowl.     But    the    monks    had 
never    known    a   case   of   the    kind.     Thev   only    knew   that 
the  lama   who  had   been   walled   in   for  sixtv-nine  vears  had 
wished   to  see  the  sun  again   before  he  died.     I   h'ad   heard 
Ironi  monks  who  were   in    'Pong   at    the    time   that    he  had 
written  <Iown  his  wish  to  be  let  out.     He  was  all   bent  up 
ogether  and  as  small  as  a  child,  and  his  body  was  nothin'r 
but   a   light  grey  [Kirchment-like  skin   and    bones.     His  eves 
had     ,,st    their  colour,   were    quite    bright    and    blind.     I'lis 
hair  hung  round   his  head   in   uncomljed   matted   locks  and 
^yas  pure  white.     His  body  was  covered  only  by  a  ra-    for 
time  had   eaten  away  his  clothing  and   he  had  'received   no 
new   garments    _  He    had    a    thin    unkempt    beard,    and    had 
never  washed  himself  all  the  time  or  cu.  his  nails      Of  the 
monks    who    sixty-nine    years     before    had    conducted     him 
<.   his   cell,    not   one    survived.     He    was    then    quite   young 
himself,    but   all   his   conter.poraries    had    been   removed  bv 
death    and   new  generations  of  monks  had   passed   throucrh 
t        cloisters;     he    was    a    complete    stranger    to    them    all. 
An.l    he   ha.l    scarcely    been    carried    out    into    the    sunli-ht 
when    he    too   gave    up    the    ghost  ^uni^nc 

In   analyzing  the  state  of  such   a    soul,    fancy    has   free 
ia>,  for  we  know  nothing  about  it.     Waddell  and  Landon, 
•           t  ^T  '"  V^"""''"^'^^"^'''^''M^^'^'ition  to  TJiasa.and 
^^M   the   hermits'   caves  at   Xyang-to-ki-pu.   sav   tha     the 
monks    who    have    there    retire.l    into    perpetual    da  kness 
first    iinr  (Tu-Pnt    ^■.,vvf,,.. _•  „  _  ,   '.  .  >  cHMiLss 


experiences    of    isolation,    the    nrst 


XXXV 


IMMURED    MONKS 


la>lin<,'six  months,  and   the  second   three  years  and   ninety- 
tliree    days,    and    that    tho.se    who    had    passed    throiif,'h    the 
second    peri(«l    of   trial   showed    signs   that    they   wen-   intel- 
leetually    interior    u>    other    monks.     The    cases    which    the 
two    Kn<,disiinnn    have    descrilx'd    seem    not    to    have    been 
so   severe    a    trial    as    the    one    I    saw    and    heard    about    in 
l-iMKa,     for    m    the    \yang-to-ki-pu    caves    the    lama    who 
waited  on  the   recluse   tappe.l   on   a   stone   slab  which   closed 
the    small  openin<;,    and    at   this    signal    the    immured    lama 
luit  his  han.l  out  of   this  door  for  his  foal ;  he  immediately 
drew  the  stone  shutter  to  again,  but  in  this  way  he  would 
at  least  see  the  light  of  the  sun  for  a  moment' every  day 
In    the   cases   described    by   Waddell    and    Landon    the   im- 
mured   monks    had    i)asse(i    some    twenty    years   in    confine- 
ment.      Waddell,    who    has     a     thorough      knowledge    of 
Lamaism,   believes  that  the  custom  of  seclusion    for  life  is 
only  an  imitation  of  the  practice  of  pure  Indian  Buddhism 
wluc.i    enjoins    periodical    retreats    from    the    workl    for   the 
I)urpose  of   self-e.xamination  antl  of  acquiring   greater  clear- 
ness in    abstru.se    questions.     In   his  opinion   the    Tibetans 
luive^  made  an   end   of  the   means. 

Un.Ioubtedly  this  opinion  is  correct,  but  it  is  not 
exhaustive  It  may  be  that  the  future  hermit  has  in 
religious  delusK)n  come  to  the  decision  to  allow  himself 
to  be  buried  alive.  But  does  he  clearly  conceive  what 
this  means?  If  he  became  dull  and  insensible  like  an 
animal  in  his  cell,  all  his  energy  and  his  power  of  will 
would  be  deadened,  and  what  seemed  to  him,  when  he 
cnterefl,  to  be  worth  striving  for,  would  gradually  become 
more  and  more  indilTerent  to  him.  But  this  is  not  the 
case,  for  he  adheres  firmly  to  his  decision,  and  the-eforc 
Ills  energy  must  remain  unimjjaired.  He  must  possess  a 
st-adfast  faith,  an  immovable  conviction,  whirh  is  exposed 
1'.'  a  harder  irial  because  he  is  alone  and  death  alonc^  can 
visit  hini  in  his  cave.  Possibly  he  becomes  by  degrees  a 
yKtim  of  self-delusion,  so  that  his  longing  for  the  last  hour 
m  tlie  long  night  of  his  ilen  gives  place  to  the  feeling  that 
IK'  IS  always  at  the  moment  when  the  hour-glass  of  time  has 

rln-ir'*"'''".  .u     "'"'^  ^'^'""^  ^'"^  ''^   '^'^''^   "'   ""ic,   and  the 
uaikness  oi  the  grave  appears  to  him  only  as  a  second  in 


<tl 


:^i 


J 


lO 


IKAXS  HIMALAYA 


CH.\P. 


I'Urnity.     For  the  means  he  fornierlv  had  of  marking  the 
Ihght  of  time  aii.l   imjjresM'nfi  it  on   hi.s  memory   nu  longer 
exist.     The  changes   from   winter   to  summer,   from   (hiy  to 
night,  are  only  made  known   to  him   hv  the  rise  or  fall  of 
the    temjuTature    in    his    den.     He    rem'emhers    that    several 
rainy  seasons  have  i)assed  by,  and  perhaps  they  seem  to  him 
to  follow  closely  on  one  another  while  his  Ijrain  is  clouded 
In  monotony.     It  is  inconceival)le  that   he  does  not   become 
insane,  that  he  does  not  call  out  for    the  light,  that  he  docs 
not  jumj)  uj,  and  run  his  head  against  the  wall  in  the  agony  of 
despair  or  Ix-at   it   against  the  sharp  edges  of   the  stones  till 
he  i;leeds  t(;  death  an.!  frees  himself  by  committing  suicide 
But  he  waits  patiently  for  death,  and  death  may  delay  its 
coming  for  ten  or  twenty  years.     His  remembrance  of'  the 
world  ami  life  outside  his  cell  Ix'comes  fainter  anrl  fainter- 
he  has  long  forgotten  the  dawn  in  the  east  and  the  g.jlrlen 
clouds    of    sunset;     and    when    he    looks    up    his    dimmed 
eyes    perceive    no    stars    twinkling    in    the    night,    only    the 
black    ceiling    of    his    cave.     At    last,    however,    after"  long 
years    have    passe<l     in    the    darkness,    suddenly    a    great 
brilliancy    Hashes   out  -  that   is,  when    Death    comes,   takes 
him  by  the  hand,  and  leads  him  out.     And   Death  has  not 
<)   wait,  entreat,  and    coa.x,   for   the    lama   has   waited    and 
onged    for    his    welcome    and    only    guest    and    deliverer. 
If   he  has  had  his   mind   still  clear,  he  has  taken  the  little 
wooden   stand  under   his  arms  so  that   he  may  die   in  the 
same    sacred    position    in    which    Buddha   is    represented    in 
all  the  thousands  of   statues  and  pictures  which  have  come 
t?m  'les"of   Tibet''"    '"  """"  ''■''"'^'"""«'    ^'^'""^^    the    cloister 
When  the  tsamba   bowl,   which  has  been   filled  daily  for 
so  many  long  years,  remains  at  last  untouched  and   the  si.x 
days   have   e.xpiml,    the   cave   is   opened   and    the   abbot   of 
the  monastery  sits  down  beside  the  deceased  and  i)rays  for 
him,  while  all  the  other  monks  pray  in  the  dukaui'  hall  for 
hvcor   s,x   days   together.     Then    the    body   is   wrapped    in 
a  white  garment    a  covering  called   ringa  'is  placed   on  his 
head    and  he  is  burned  on  a  pyre.     The  ashes  are  collected, 
kneaded    together    with    clay,    and    moulded    into    a    small 
l-wcimii.,    rthicn   15    deposited    in    a    chhorten. 


XXXV 


IMMURED   J.^OXKS 


II 


Tlie  Un^a  monks  said  that  an  ordinary  lama,  when  he 
(lies,  is  cut  in  pieces  and  abandoned  to  the  birds.  This 
l)rocess  is  performed  here  by  tive  himas,  who,  ihouj^h  thev 
belonj;  to  the  monastery,  attend  the  service  in  the  dukang, 
and  drink  tea  with  the  other  monks,  are  still  considered 
unclean,  and  may  not  eat  with  the  other  brethren.  Also 
when  nomads  die  in  the  neighbourhoiKJ,  their  services  are 
required,  but  then  the  relatives  are  Ix^und  to  provide  them 
with  horses  and  to  unrlertake  that  the  property  of  the 
deceased    shall  pass   \n\.o  the   possession   of   the   monastery. 

For  days  and  weeks  I  could  not  drive  away  the  i)icture 
I  had  formed  in  my  mind  of  the  Lama  Rinpoche,  before 
whose  cell  we  had  stood  and  talked.  And  still  less 
could  I  forget  his  predecessor,  who  had  lived  there  forty 
years.  I  fancied  I  could  hear  the  conch  which  summoned 
the  monks  to  the  funeral  mass  of  the  departed.  I  pictured 
to  myself  the  scene  in  the  cave  where  the  lama,  crouching 
in  rags  on  the  floor,  stretches  out  his  withered  hands  to 
Death,  who,  kindly  smiling  like  the  skull  masks  in  the 
temples,  gives  him  one  hand  while  he  holds  a  brighdy 
burning  lamp  in  the  other.  The  features  of  the  monk  are 
transfigured  in  a  reflexion  of  Xirvana,  and  forgetting  the 
"Om  mani  jjudmc  hum"  that  for  tens  of  years  has  rever- 
berated from  the  walls  of  his  den,  he  raises,'  as  the  trumpet 
blasts  sound  out  from  the  temi)le  roof,  a  song  of  victory, 
which  calls  to  mind  the  following  strophe  from  the  myths 
of  another  people  {Frithiofs  Sa^a,  Blackley's  translation) : 


Hail,  ye  deities  bright ! 
Ye  Valhalla  sons ! 
Earth  fadeth  away;  to  the  heavctily  feast 
Glad  trum|)ets  invite 

Me,  and  blessedness  crowns, 
As  fair,  as  with  gold  helm,  your  hastening  guest. 


CIIAPTKR    XXXVI 


OVER    THF.   CHANG-LA-POD-LA 


\h. 


bank; 


\Vf,  had  stayed  thrrc  days  near  the  monastery  Lin<j;a, 
when  we  wint  (in  north-westwards  on  April  17  u\)  the 
narrow  My  chii  valley,  in  whieh  the  volume  of  water  was 
now  considerably  diminished.  Space  does  not  permit  me 
to  describe  in  detail  this  wonderful  road  and  its  wild 
beauty.  From  the  expansion  of  the  valley  at  Linj^^a 
routes  run  eastwards  and  westwards  into  the  mountains, 
with  branches  to  numerous  villages,  of  which  I  noted 
down  the  names  and  appro.ximate  |)ositions.  The  traffic 
is  now  much  less,  but  still  numerous  mani.s  and 
reli<,'ious  symbols  stand  beside  the  solitary  path. 

We    ride    alonj,'    the    stc      slopes    of'   the    rij^dit     , 

below  us  the  river  forms  rapids,  and  the  way  is  dangerous, 
especially  with  a  horse  that  is  not  sure  on  its  feet. 
Robert's  small  bay  filly  stumbled  and  fell,  so  that  the  rider 
was  thrown  headlong  to  the  ground.  Had  he  rolled  down 
the  slope  he  would  have  been  lost;  but  fortunately  he  fell 
t-'wards  the  mountain. 

We  encamped  in  the  village  Langmar,  consisting  of 
a  few  scattered  houses,  at  the  entrance  of  the  small  side 
valley   Langmar-pu. 

\Ve  still  have  hired  horses,  and  now  yaks  also,  anrl  the 
caravan  is  divided  into  the  same  detachments  as  before. 
Sonam  'I'sering  and  Guffaru  commanfl  their  sections. 
T^ering's  party  sets  out  last  and  is  the  last  to  come  to 
rest,  and  Muhamed  Isa  supervises  the  whole.  In  the 
evening  he  is  massnued  bv  two  mpn  ';el'''"tf'f'  U'-^  — =' 
purpose,  of  whom  Rehim  Ali  is  one.     There  is  still  chang, 


^.^. 


uAP.xxxv.     OVER   THE   CHAXG-LA-POD-LA 


»3 


the  harmless,  but  still  int()xiratin<;,  beer.  Among  the 
singers  at  tlie  camp-fires,  Tsering,  as  usual,  deserves  the 
first  prize.  He  gives  me  no  end  of  amusement;  he  sings 
like  a  cow,  or  at  best  like  a  burst  temple  drum.  His  voice 
cracks  continually,  and  he  loses  the  time  and  the  melodv 
without  being  the  least  put  out.  But  he  considers  his 
singing  very  fine,  and  the  others  take  jileasure  in  it;  one 
can  tell  from  a  distance  that  the  tears  are  coming  into  his 
eyes.  Sometimes  he  pauses  to  explain  the  subject  of  the 
ballad  and  take  a  drink,  and  then  he  goes  on  again.  When 
all  the  others  are  asleep,  and  all  is  so  quiet  in  the  camp 
that  the  rushing  of  the  stream  is  audible  and  from  time 
to  time  the  bark  of  a  dog,  Tsering's  rough  voice  trilling 
harshly  still  resounds  among  the  mountains. 

Next  day  we  draw  near  to  the  main  crest  of  the 
Trans-Himalaya,  for  to  my  great  surprise  and  delight  we 
have  been  conducted  in  this  direction.  Granite  still 
predominates,  and  in  it  erosion  has  excavated  the  wild 
forms  of  the  valleys;  the  way  is  tolerably  good,  but  very 
stony;  small  stri])s  of  ice  lie  along  both  banks  of  the 
stream,  within  which  the  bright  green  water  fills  the  valley 
with  the  roar  of  its  impetuosity.  The  dark  green  of  a 
kind  of  juniper  called  pama  is  a  relief  to  the  eyes,  which 
otherwise  perceive  nothing  but  grey  slopes  of  detritus. 

The  river  here  is  named  Langmar-tsangpo,  but  it  is 
really  only  the  upper  course  of  the  My-chu.'  It  is  formed 
by  the  Ke-tsangpo  coming  from  the  north  and  the  Govo- 
tsangpo  from  the  west.  The  former,  called  in  its  upper 
course  Ogorung-tsangpo,  descends  from  the  main  water- 
shed of  the  Trans-Himalaya,  and  must  therefore  be  con- 
sidered the  main  stream.  I  was  told  that  its  source  may 
be  reached  in  a  day  and  a  half  from  the  junction  of  the 
valleys.  On  the  left  bank  of  the  Govo  a  thicket  of  pama 
shrubs  grows,  and  a  safe  bridge  of  three  arches  spans  the 
river.  Over  this  bridge  runs  the  important  trade  route 
to  Tok-jalung  which  I  have  mentioned  above.  Herds  of 
yaks  and  flocks  of  sheep  graze  on  the  slopes,  and  circular 
penfolds  remind  us  of  our  life  in  the  Chang-tang.  A 
—  •••••';'-'  "P  "C  crvj==  iiiL-  Uu\u,  v.juLii  IS  riaii-irozcn 
over;    springs  and  brooks  from  the  side  valleys  adorn  the 


14 


TRANS- HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


scene  with  cascades  of  ice.  The  river  is  said  to  be  here 
so  swollen  in  summer  that  it  cannot  be  crossed  at  any 
point.  To  the  north  and  south  snowy  mountains  are 
vi>ihlc. 

In  the  village  ot  Govo,  consisting  of  seven  stone 
houses,  barley  is  cultivated  and  yields  a  moderate  crop; 
but  the  inhabitants  are  not  dejK'ndent  on  the  harvest, 
for  they  also  possess  sheep,  goats,  and  yaks,  with  which 
they  migrate  northwards  in  sumnn-r.  Govo  is  the  last 
village  where  agriculture  is  pursued,  so  we  here  find 
ourselves  on  the  boundary  between  tillage  and  grazing, 
and  also  Ijetween  stone  houses  and  black  tents  (Illus- 
tration  182). 

We  have,  then,  still  time  to  look  into  an  ordinary 
Ti))etan  stone  hut  bel(;nging  to  a  family  in  comfortable 
circumstances.  The  walls  are  built  of  'untrimmcd  bare 
stones,  but  the  cre\ices  are  stopped  with  earth  to  keep  out 
the  wind.  Through  a  labyrinth  of  walls  and  over  round 
stones  where  the  tripping  foot  seldom  touches  the  ground 
we  come  to  two  yards  where  goats  and  calves  are  kept. 
In  a  third  is  a  loom,  at  which  a  ha'*"  naked  coppery  brown 
woman  is  working,  antl  in  a  fourth  siis  an  old  man  engaged 
in  cutting  up  pama  shrubs. 

From  this  yard  we  entered  a  half-dark  room,  with  a 
floor  of  mud,  and  two  openings  in  the  roof,  through  which 
the  smoke  escapes  and  the  davlight  enters.  The  roof 
consists  of  l)eams  overlaid  with  a  thatch  of  brushwood, 
which  is  covered  all  over  with  soil  and  flat  stones  —  it 
must  be  nice  and  dry  when  it  rains.  There  sat  an  elderly 
woman  telling  off  her  manis  on  a  rosary  of  porcelain 
bead ,. 

The  next  room  is  the  kitchen,  the  general  li\'ing  room 
and  the  principal  apartment  of  the  house.  At  a  projecting 
wall  stands  the  stone  cooking-range  with  round  black- 
edged  holes  fo-  saucepans  and  teapots  of  leaked  clay. 
A  large  earthen  pot,  standing  on  t!ie  fire,  contains  barley, 
which  is  c,!ten  parched;  a  stick  with  a  stifT  piece  of 
leather  at  the  end  is  twirled  round  in  the  barlev  between 
the  i)alms  so  that  it  may  be  roasted  equally.'  Tt  tastes 
delirious. 


XXXVI 


OVER   THE   CIIAXG-EA-I'OD-LA 


15 


i 

I 


I  went  aljDUt.  tu;  id  owr  all  thr  houstlidd 
and  iiiadf  an  invi'iUoi-y,  and  not  in  Sufdi>li  (iiil\-. 
ill    'I'ilHtan.      'I'Iktc    wirr    nian\    dilUrtnt    m^lI'^ 


utensils 
lit  also 
of    iron. 


(lay,  and  wood  for  ail  kinds  of  purposes,  a  lar^e  wooden 
ladle,  a  tea  sieve  of  sheet-iron,  an  iron  spoon,  an  a-li 
shovel,  iron  Jire-tons^'s,  ^uvl  a  thin!,^  called  a  llui-iiui.  an 
iron  Made  fitted  into  a  jjiece  of  wotxl,  somethini,'  like  a 
elosed  j.-ocket  knife,  and  used  to  dress  newlv''  wovin 
material.  A  lar^e  elay  ju-^r  was  filled  with  c/hini;.'  A  Mnall 
eubical  vessel  divided  into  four  by  small  cross  pieces  of 
wood  is  used  to  measure  corn.  Brick  tea  is  jiulverized 
with  a  stone  shaj)ed  like  a  cucumber  in  a  deep  wooden 
cup.  A  knife-blade  with  a  haft  at  either  end  is  used  in 
preparing,'  and  tawin,^  hido.  Under  one  of  the  smoke 
vents  stocxl  a  small  hearth  for  an  open  fire  with  an  iron 
trip<xl.  A  larfre  leathern  sack  was  filled  with  tsamhi,  and 
two  shcei)'s  stomachs  held  fat  and  butter.  On  a  rack  a 
quantity  of  sheep's  trotters,  dusty  and  dirtv,  were  arranj^ad  ; 
when  they  are  several  months  old  ihev  are  Used  to  niake 
soup,  which  is  thickened  with  tsamha.  Tea,  salt,  and  to- 
bacco are  ke])t  in  large  and  small  baj^'s. 

We  saw  likewise  all  kinds  of  reli<;ious  (jbjects,  votive 
bowls,  j(jss-sticks,  and  small  image  cases;  also  Ijales  of 
home-woven  textiles,  coloured  ribands  /or  sewing  on 
skin  coats  and  boots,  knives,  hatchets,  sabres,  and  spears, 
which,  we  were  told,  are  for  fighting  thieves  and  robbers' 
a  pair  of  bellows,  two  sacks  of  dry  (lung  for  fuel,  baskets, 
hand-mills  for  grinding  barlev,  consisting  of  two  round  flat 
stones  with  a  handle  on  the  upi)er  one;  lastlv,  an  oil- 
lamp  and  an  oil-can;  and  a  cvlindrical  tub  with  i'ron  hoops 
full  of  water.  In  a  corner  lay  heaps  of  skins  and  garments" 
and  against  the  wall  were  two  sleeping-places  still  in 
(hsorder. 

In  another  store-room  there  were  provisions  in  sucks, 
barley,  green  fodder,  j)eas,  and  great  joints  of  meat.  Here 
t'lree  young  women  and  a  troop  of  children  had  taken 
reluge;  we  left  them  room  to  escape,  and  thcv  ran  awav 
screaming  loudly  as  if  all  the  knives  in  the' house  were 
at  their  throats.  In  the  room  were  l^alances  for  weitrhiner 
n.nM>iu,g   (M    a   rounded  stall    with    a   stone   weight  at   one 


.m. 


1 6 


TRAXS-IILMALAVA 


CHAP. 


end  and  a  d  icd  yak  hide  at  the  otlur.  Behind  a  partition, 
straw  was  kipt.  'rhure  are  lii-rh  inconvenient  thresholds 
between  the  rooms,  and  the  usual  bundles  of  rods  on  the 
roof  to   protect   the  house   from  evil  s|)irits. 

After    this    expedition    we    in.si)eeted    the     tents    of    our 
escort,  where  a  lire  was  burninfr  in  a  broken  clav  pot,    and 
a   skillet    stood    over    it   on    a    tripod.     Th,.   smcJke   escapes 
thnjugh   the  long  slit   between   the  two  halves  of  which    the 
ten.    IS    composed.     The    owners    of    the    tent    wire    writing 
their  report  to  the  authorities  in  Shigatse,    informing  them 
that   we    were   on   the   right   road.     At   the  same    time    they 
were  eating   their  dinner  of   mutton,   a   vear  old,    dry  and 
hard;    it  must  not  come  near  the  fire.     One  of  them 'cut  it 
into    strips    and    distributed    it    among    his     comrades.     He 
had  been  for  twent\-  years  a  lama  in  the  monastery  Lun"- 
ganden  in  Tong,   but  a  few  years  before  had   been' ejcctt^d 
from  the  confraternity  because   he   had    fallen   in   love   with 
a    woman.     He    spoke    of   it    himself,    so   it    was   doubtless 
true. 

Robert's  bay   horse  was  reported  dead   on   the   morning 
of  April    20.     His  late   tumble   now   seeme<l    to   us   like   an 
omen;    though  fat  and  sleek,  he  died   suddenlv  about  mid- 
night.    We  now  ride  on  again  towards  higher' regions  over 
uncomfortable    blocks    of    stone,    but    the'    valle\'    becomes 
more  open  and   the  relative  heights  diminish.     Though  the 
little    that    IS    left    of    the    stream    still    swirls    and    foams 
the    ice    becomes    thicker,    and    at    last    covers    almost    all 
the   bed,  and    the   water  is    heard   rushing    and    murmurin.^ 
under  it.       Juicy  moss  skirts   the  banks,  the   view  becomes 
more  extensive,    and  the   whole   character   of  the   landscape 
becomes  alpine.     We  saw   ten   men   with   guns   in   a  sheep- 
fold,   carrying  gun-rests   with   veilcnv  and   red   pennants  on 
one   of   the   prongs:     perhaps    they   were   highway  robbers 
Dark    clouds   sweep  over  the   ridges,   and    in   a   minute  we 
are  in  the  midst  of  icy-cold  drifting  snow,  but  it  does  not 
last  long. 

The  la.st  bit  of  road  wps  awful,  nothing  but  boulders  and 
debris,  which  we  amid  sometimes  avoid  by  riding  over  the 
i^ce  of  the  river.  The  camj^ing-ground  was  called  Chomo- 
sumdo,   a   vauey   fork   in   a  desulule  region,  but  the  escort 


] 


.4. 

-4 


XXXVI 


OVER   THE   CIIANG-LA-POD-LA 


'7 


had  seen  that  some  straw  and  barley  were  brought  up  on 
yaks  for  our  horses. 

From  here  \vc  had  to  ride  on  the  ice,  smooth  and  firm 
afttr  27  degrees  of  frost  in  the  night.  The  neighbour- 
hood is  not,  however,  uninhabited,  for  yaks  and  sheep  were 
seen  grazing  in  many  places,  belonging  to  nomads  migrat- 
ing nortliwards  or  merchants  coming  from  Tok-jalung. 
M  two  black  tents  the  people  were  packing  up  for  the  day's 
march;  they  had  goats,  with  red  strips  of  cloth  lx)und  round 
the  ears. 

.\  little  farther  up  is  a  precipitous  rock  on  the  right 
side  of  the  valley,  and  two  caves  open  their  black  mouths 
in  the  wall.  The  lower  one  (Illustration  190)  is  the 
entrance  to  a  passage  leading  to  the  upper,  where  a 
lamous  hermit  has  fi.xed  his  solitary  abode.  The  upper 
opening  has  a  partly  natural  balcony  decorated  with 
streamer  poles  and  ribands.  Below  the  lower  stand  mani 
cairns,  long  garlands  of  string  ^^ith  coloured  prayer 
strips,  a  prayer  mast,  and  a  metal  idol  in  a  niche  of  the 
rock. 

We  tethered  our  horses  at  the  edge  of  the  ice  and 
went  up  to  the  lower  grotto.  Here  two  young  nuns  from 
Kirong  (on  the  border  of  \e[)al)  met  us,  and  two  mendicant 
monks  from  Nepal,  one  of  whom  spoke  Hindustani,  so 
that  Robert  could  converse  with  him.  The  nuns  were 
pretty,  well-grown,  sun-burnt,  and  somewhat  like  gypsies; 
their  large  black  eyes  had  the  shimmer  of  velvet,  and  their 
black  hair  was  parted  on  the  forehead  and  fell  in  luxuriant 
waves  over  their  shoulders;  they  were  clothed  in  red  rags 
and  wore  Tibetan  boots  adorned  with  red  ribands.  They 
spoke  cheerfully  and  pleasantly  in  strikingly  soft,  e.xtremely 
symi)athctic  voices,  and  were  not  in  the  least  timid.  Their 
simple  dwelling,  which  we  saw,  was  in  the  great  entrance 
of  the  grotto,  under  a  smoke-blackened  vault,  surrounded 
by  a  small  wall  and  a  palisade  of  pama  branches,  and  partly 
hung  with  cloth.  A  sleeping-place  was  made  of  rugs  of 
interwoven  strips  of  cloth,  and  a  tea-kettle  was  boiling  on 
the  fire.  One  of  the  men  had  a  thick  pigtail  and  a  red 
lama  frock ;  the  other  wore  a  sheepskin,  and  had  not  had 
his    hair    cut    in    the     present,    twentieth,    century.     The 


i:i"> 


VOL.  II 


It      V 


t8 


TRANS  HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


prDptr    was    situatnl     in    a     higher    part    ..f    tht 


du'tilin!,' 
ca\nii. 

All  lour  IkuI  ((.nic  in  autumn,  and  were  waiting  for  tlu- 
warmer  scaM.n  to  pn.ci.d  to  Mia>a.  and  return  tliencL' 
home  a-ain.  In  the  meantime  thev  voluntarilv  waited  on 
the  two  holy  hermi-s  sojournin-  in  this  mountain,  and 
therein-  earned  their  livin|r  and  ^'ained  merit,  accordin-^  to 
the  Ideas  of  thew  order.  When  thev  -o  off  a-ain  un  tlu  ir 
wanderm^'s,  other  si'rvint:  brethren  and  .Msters  will  he 
lound  ready  to  take  tluir  place. 

.\  uindinir  staircase  on  llie  left,  partly  natural  and 
I'arl  y  constructed  of  lla-.lone^,  leads  to  thJ  upper  regions 
<'l  tlK'  cavern.  .\t  tir>t  it  is  dark,  hut  hecomes  li-hter  as 
we  api)roach  a  loophole  in  the  rock.  Here  and  there  are 
streamer  |,ole>,  and  tiie  holy  syllables  are  incised.  Fn.m 
the  loophole  the  staircase  turns  steeplv  to  the  ri-ht ;  if  wc 
slip;  u  on  the  smooth  stone  we  should  tuml.le  down  ri-ht 
into  the  nuns'  kitchen,  which  from  here  looks  like  ?hc 
'^"•<;;nY'l  'I  ^vdl.  The  passa.^e  en<ls  at  a  point  where  a 
small  stone  staircase  -oes  up  to  a  trapdoor  covered  with  a 
slab.  ushm-  aside  the  slab,  one  reaches  the  larger 
grotto  chamber  of  ^vhieh  we  had  seen  the  opening  from 
theyaley.  liut  the  serving  brothers  and  .sisters  would 
not  take  us  so  high. 

In    this    upper' grotto,    Choma  taka,    tiie    roo   years'    old 
hermit,   (umsang  Xgurbu,  of  high  repute  in  all   the  country 
for  h,s  hohnc;s>,  h.as  dwelt  for  seven  years.     Gunsang  means 
hermit,    and  .\gurbu    is    a  very    common    name     signif^■in.r 
precious    stone.     Every    seventh    day    his    attendants    place 
f  "/"^    water.    tea,_  and    fuel    on    the   steps  under  the  trap- 
door,  and    these   things   are   taken   in   bv  the  old   man    who 
may  not  speak  with  men,  i^ut  only  with  the  gods.     Through 
a    hole    under  the   slal)   I    caught    sight  of   a  Mortcu  con- 
structed  of  stones   and    mud,  and   some   painted    pictures  of 
,^-.us  on   the   wall  of  the  grotto.      Behind   the  rhUtnt,   and 
unlor.unaiely  out   of  sight,   the  old   man   sat  in   a   niche  in 
;;;;vall,  crouching  down  and   saying  his  prayers;    now  and 
tiiiii   he   lilows  a  shell   horn. 

'    '•'■    i'""''   a>i;ie   ihe   .-^iiutiii    and    mount   into    the 

upper  grotto,   but  the  con.<iences  of  my  companions  would 


ml.   K<iiii 


'.Ml    R\BhANG   liV    lllh    III.   UN    1111.    W  .\V    lO   lllli   ( 'll  ,\.S<;-I..\- I'OIJ- l.A. 


lyj.       .\    l.ll.VDSK    llKCKlli    WITH    M  ANI-Sti  )NKS    A.Nl)    I'RAVKK-StRKAMKHS 
(X.W,  ..I"  tin-  K..r<--hi.i 


I* 


OVKR   TIIK   CnA.\(}-LA-P()l)-L.\ 


tq 


not  pLTinit  -lull  a  tiling  for  all  tlir  iiioncy  in  the  \\(irl(l. 
It  would  (li-lurl)  llir  old  man  in  lii>  nK-dilatiiin-,  and 
intc'i  U])l  die  pi.Ti(Kl  oi  his  sic  lu>ion,  and,  iiioitom  r,  tht- 
(.1(1  man  would  throw  stones  at  us.  Thr  lih'  of  the  lurmit 
X^urlni  must  be  idyllic  compared  to  that  of  the  immured 
I.in,i,'a  monks,  for  he  sees  the  valley,  the  ^lui,  the  whirling 
snow,  and  the  stars  sparklini^  in  the  sky;  hut  he  must 
sulTer  from  ennui.  In  anotlur  ^'rotto.  side  hy  side  with 
Xf^urbu's,  lives  another  hermit,  hut  the  two  have  never 
met  and  know  nothing  of  one  another.  They  may  tat  no 
meat,  only  Isamha  and  tea.  and  they  receive  tlie>e  from 
the  nei^hhourintj  nomads  and  the  travellers  pa»ing  alonj; 
the  road. 

.\fter  this  digression  we  cross  the  ice  of  the  river  again 
and  pass  u])  over  the  ever-present  detritus.  Before  us  is 
the  tlattish  saddle  of  the  Chang  la-I'od  la.  We  accomi)lish 
the  ascent  with  gieat  effort,  the  icy  wind  blowing  right  in 
our  faces.  I  cannot  commence  my  observations  at  the 
cairn  till  I  have  warmed  my  hands  over  a  dung  fire.  The 
view  is  limited,  flat,  and  of  little  use  for  orientation. 
However,  towards  the  way  we  have  come,  \vc  can  see  the 
dee[)ly  eroded  valleys,  an(l  we  seem  to  be  higher  than  the 
ridges  enclosing  them.  The  height  is  18,284  f<-'<-'t.  Chang 
signifies  north,  north  country;  Pod  or  I'o,  Tibet,  i.e.  Tibet 
proper,  chieily  inhabited  by  a  settled  p(j])ulati()n.  Chang- 
la-Pod-Ia  is,  then,  the  pass  Ixfveen  the  northern  tableland 
of  the  nomads  and  the  co  .utry  to  the  south  having 
drainage  to  the  sea.  It  is  this  property  of  a  boundary 
Ix'tween  these  two  regions  which  renders  the  Trans- 
Himalaya  of  such  prime  imj>ortance,  and  therefore  there 
are  many  passes  called  Chang-la-Pfxl  la.  Often  and  often 
I  was  tokl  that  a  ])ass,  whatever  might  be  its  especial 
name,  was  a  Changda-Pcxl-la  when  it  lay  on  the  watershed 
between  the  inland  drainage  of  the  north  and  the  river 
basin  of  the  Tsiingpo  in  the  south.  I  had  then  crossed 
the  Trans-H'malaya  a  second  time  by  a  pass  lying  44 
miles  to  the  vest  of  the  Sela-Ia,  and  had  been  able  to 
ascertain  that  the  In'^-c  range  of  the  Xien-chcn-Tang-la 
extends  tlius  far.  li  was  still  more  my  earnest  desire  to 
follow    it   step   by   step   to   the   west. 


20 


TRAXS-llIMALAVA 


After  \vc  had  cnramiu'd  on  the  pass,  where-  the 
thcrmonuHT  fill  at  li^lit  to  -g.J°,  wf  nxlc  on  April  22 
slowly  down  the  valkv  of  the  Shakdiu  rivir,  which 
},'radiially  btromi's  hroadir,  and  is  hcj^'irt  Iiv  Hal  roumUd 
mountains,  in  which  rock  in  sUn  .-cldoni  ocdirs.  \Vc 
have  passed  from  the  maze  of  iiioiintain>  intersecteil 
by  the  allluents  of  the  My-clui,  abundantly  fed  hv  the 
rains,  on  to  the  wide  plains  of  the  plateau  countrv.  and 
notice  af,'ain  that  the  'rrans-IIimaiaya  is  also  an  extru(jr- 
dinarily    important    climatolofrical    l)oun(lary. 

The  Lapsen  Tari  is  a  heap  of  clods' with  a  sheaf  of 
rods  stu(  k  in  the  middle,  from  which  streamer  strings  are 
carried  to  other  nvis.  From  this  point  thiTe  is  a  hne  view 
over  the  jjlateau  and  its  wreath  of  mountains.  To  the 
north,  55°  west,  we  see  the  Tarf,'o-jran},'ri  aj^^ain,  but  more 
majestic,  more  isolated,  and  more  dominant  than  from  the 
\f^'an<(tse-tso,  where,  shrouded  in  clouds  and  surrounded  by 
other  mountains,  it  was  less  conspicuous. 

Just  at  the  mound  we  passed  the  last  corner  which 
(jljscured  the  view,  and  suddenly  the  whole  grand  mountain 
ai)[)eared  in  its  dazzling  whiteness,  shining  like  a  light- 
house over  the  sea  of  the  plateau,  in  a  mantle  of  firn  fields 
and  blue  glistening  ice,  and  rising  bold  and  sharpiv  against 
the  sky  of  purest  azure  blue.  The  mound  is  therefore 
placed  where  the  traveller  coming  from  Shigatse  first 
comes  in  sight  of  the  holy  mountain.  Our  guides  bared 
their  heads  and  murmured  ])ra\ers.  Two  pilgrims,  whom 
we  hacl  seen  at  the  grotto  of  the'  hermits,  lightc^l  a  fire  and 
threw  into  it  a  scented  powder,  an  offering  of  incense  to 
the  gfxls  of  Targo-gangri.  South  and  south-west  runs  a 
lofty  range,  of  uniform  height,  with  patches  of  snow 
glittering  in  the  sun  on  its  brownish-purple  summit  — 
another  jjart  of  the  Trans-Himalaya. 

-As  we  sat  here  a  trading  caravan  came  along  the 
road  to  Penla-buk,  which  lies  on  the  west  side  of  the 
Dangra-yum-tso,  and  is  a  ren(lez\'ous  for  gold  prospectors 
and  wool-dealers.  Our  tents  formed  a  little  village  on 
the  Kyangdam  i)lain,  where  wild  asses  abound,"  and 
some  sixty  nnm.-.ds  of  the  neig!ib-uurho<3d  encamped 
around  it. 


XXXVI 


()\ER    Till-:   CHAN G-LA- POD-LA 


21 


In  thf  evening  the  .scort  from  Ghe  i)resente(l  them- 
selves to  inform  me  that  as  we  were  now  in  the  Largep 
district,  subject  to  vhe  Labrang,  they  would  return  home 
and  consign  us  to  a  new  guard.  The  latter  consisted  of 
five  men  far  advanced  in  life.  Their  leailer  was  a  small 
grey-headed  man  with  trembling  hands  and  very  indis- 
tinct enunciation.  When  the  Ghe  men,  who  longed  to 
return  to  their  warmer  villages,  had  gone  otT  next  morning 
in  spite  of  a  violent  storm,  I  had  a  serious  talk  with  the 
new  men.  They  intended  to  kad  us  over  the  pass  Sha-la 
{Trans-IIimalaya)  in  the  south-west,  where  the  Targo- 
tsangj)o  rises,  on  the  banks  of  which  we  had  passed  the 
day.  According  to  Xain  Sing's  map  this  river  flows  round 
the  east  side  of  Targo-gangri,  and  then  enters  the  Dangra- 
tso,  as  the  holy  lake  is  called  here.  But  Xain  Sing 
was  never  tlure,  and  I  wished  to  gain  an  insight  into  the 
geography  of  the  country.  So  we  came  to  an  agreement 
that  we  should  travel  north-westwards;  and  I  pointed  out 
to  the  men  that  Raga-tasam  was  put  down  in  our  passport 
as  the  next  place;  that  two  roads  led  thither,  one  over 
the  Sha-la,  the  other  deviating  northwards  to  the  Targo- 
gangri,  and  that  I  had  chosen  the  latter.  The  passport 
prohibited  us  from  visiting  Lhasa,  Gyangtsc,  and  the 
monastery  Sekiya-gompa,  but  contained  not  a  single 
word  about  the  road  to  the  Dangra-yum-tso.  Thev  ought 
then  to  comjily  with  my  wishes.'  The  old  man  hesitated, 
pondered  awhile,  and  summoned  his  followers  to  a  council. 
His  tent  was  s-  m  full  of  black,  bare-headed  men  in  grey 
sheepskins.  Then  the  consultation  was  adjourned  to 
Muhamed  Isa's  tent.  After  some  consideration  they 
agreed  to  my  proposals,  on  the  condition  that  I  should 
pay  them  a  whole  teni^a  per  day  for  each  yak  instead  of 
half  a  tenga.  I  rejoiced  at  the  hope  of  seeing  the  holy 
mountain  coming  closer  and  closer,  and  its  finer  details 
becoming  more  conspicuous,  of  Loholding  it  in  cloud  and 
sunshine,  disappearing  behind  the  hills  and  peeping  out 
again  like  a  man-of-war  in  a  rough  sea  with  high  white 
waves  round  the  bow,  or,  more  correctly,  like  a  ship  under 
iiiil  sail  on  the  sea  of  the  plateau.  Of  course  I  exposed 
myself    to   annoyances  by  ignoring    the   passport,   but    geo- 


n 


IK.WS  lilMAL.WA 


I'lii-idtnitidtis 


^'r;i|.lii(;il  (lixdvcrics  wire    ( oik crncil    and 
iiuNt    he  Mt  a^'ilf. 

<'i.    \V-..  .lav    April    ,,,   ^u-   had    a    ^tn.nu  wind    in    .mr 

l">ir  liHiMni.n   ulm  uviv  a>  nui.  i,  alik,-  a.  if  iluv  ha.l   hrrn 
'.>-i    11.    t  u-    Sim,.    n,..iiM.   and    u  Im    |,ad    all    nial.  1.1,.,  ks   „.n 
.''"'I-    l'"'.N    I    n«K-   alnn-    tli,'    hank    ,,|    tli,-      Tar.r.,  tsiri"..,, 
"•    'H    '■'ntra.tm^'    valKy    ul,i,|,    .jop^s    ujtl,    an  "^cMnm  Iv 
i^niU-    i^ra-lunt      iinp,T,v,,til,|,.     i.,    iIk-    ,vt.,     t.,     tl„.     lakr. 
■M      .iM    tlu'   ValKv    Ivc.nus   >.>   narrow   that    ihr   i,r   f,||s   all 
I';,  '""";"^-       ""•     ••"•"I    th,T,.f,wv    lravc>    th.    riur    en    th. 
'^".    and    pa.MS   ..ur    Hat     hill..    ain„n«    v.hi(h    uv   (t„.s   a 
Mi.(.-,un      nl      ,n,all     allhunt.       HIac  k      tents,     tarn.,     vaks 
KHi/in^,  >tun,.     nids    Inr    sh,rp.    uiM    a-.,.,    and    millions  r,f 
'^•'''    •""^'   ••'•call    to    mind    tl.,'   Chan- tan^.     Th,'   uil,|    vak 
Mouvvvr,    docs    not    ,.(Ti,r    in    this    n.untrv.     The    fcathi-mi 
k.iiK.  on,    ,s    n.prcscntrd    l,y    ravcn>,    uil.j  '.huks    and    occa 
sionallv  a   Miiall   l,n-,l.     \\h,n   uc-  ram.  to  th.   Humnak  dui 
a     nd.thand     tr.lniiary     of     the     Tai-o  tsanu'l.-..     a     ku-c 
•H""lHr  ol   mm  ,am,.  to  m,rt   u>,  .salutin^^  with  thr  ton-^ur 
and  ^'azin-  at   us  ,  luvrfully  and   -..od-tcnlprrnllv,  uith   their 
on-   hiack   imkrmpt   hair,   tlxir  ..mall   -rev  skins,   ami   their 
lorn   hoots. 

.  On  .\|'ri|  25  wr  rode  over  the  Tin- la  pas.;  at  its  foot 
IS  a  iwnii  in  -o,k1  prcMrvation,  with  a  vak  skull  as  orna- 
"i'nt.  a  l,.rm  ot  pray,T  Inin-  inrisc<l  in'  the  frontal  hone 
hetween_  tlu^  h,.rns.  From  the  top  of  the  pa.s  Tar-o- 
Kan-ri  is  seen  expande,!  into  a  row  of  pc-aks  covered  with 
snow.  I  he  whole  re-ion  is  like  a  sea  with  a  stron-  swell 
on,  an,l  the  lar-o-an-ri  is  as  white  foamin-  surf  on  the 
n)a>t.  A  little  later  the  summits  of  the  mass  sKkkI  riearlv 
"Ut  \vhit,.  on  a  l)ack-roun,l  <.f  hluish-hlaek  clouds-  the 
lii^n-t  two.  twin  peaks,  ha.l  the  form  of  a  Tibetan '  tent 
on  two  ]io|,'s. 

<)"••  '-amp  in  the  Kokho  vallev  .^ontainal  not  fewer 
'  ia'1  >ltven  tents,  for  now  we  harl  ahout  fortv  companir.ns 
"    al    a-,  s,   an,l   at   least   a   humlred    vaks.     The  loa.ls  were 

IlaM>l,rrr.|    to  otluT    Vak.   on    the    nv\rrh   to  .-Mare   the   ■;-• '■ 

Wlieii    the   caravan    moves   over    the   rounrled '"hilirit'''i.s '  111^' 


XXXVI 


0\i;r    ilii;  CII.WG-LA-I'ol)  LA 


«3 


i 

n 


a   nomad   triU'  on    thi'  man  ti.      Most   of  our  Tilxlans  ride 
yaks  or  hor.M>. 

\\V  had  made  a  sliort  march,  and  j)lenty  of  tinu-  was 
Ifft  for  nu-  lo  f,'o  alxHit.  make  a  visit  to  i;u  h  ti'nt.  and  sir 
liow  .  c  men  Win-  Ki^tting  on.  Thty  uia-  all  drinking  ti'a 
and  ratin;,'  tsamlni,  their  greatest  'pleasure  in  life.  'I'he 
dunj,'  fire^  hums  in  the  middle,  and  the  form  of  tlu'  tent 
(irtainly  is  the  cause  of  the  draught  which  prevents  smoke 
from  c-ollectini,'  in.side.  Round  alxnit  stand  kettles,  tea- 
|)ots,  and  W()(Mlen  cups.  A  hu<,'e  (|uantity  of  i)rovisions 
lies  at  the  sides.  Saddles  and  harness  are  deposited  in  a 
row  Ixfore  the  tent.  When  I  enter,  all  rise,  hut  I  heg 
them  to  sit  down  a^'ain  and  go  on  eatinJ,^  while  I  take  a 
seat  on  a  harley  sack  at  the  door  of  the  tent.  All  have  the 
rJL^dit  arm  hare,  and  many  lM)th  arms;  when  thev  let  their 
sheejiskins  fall  down  their  hacks  the  whole  IkkIv'  is  naked 
down  to  the  waist.  They  are  copper  hrown  and  covered 
with  a  layer  of  dirt,  hut  well-<,'rown,  powerful,  manlv,  and  in 
^o<m1  i)roportion.  The  cook  of  the  tent  community  jxairs 
out  tea  for  all,  and  then  each  one  hrin^s  out  his  own  haj,'  and 
takes  out  a  pinch  of  tsamha  to  sprinkle  into  his  tea.  They 
cat  meat  either  raw  or  hoiled  in  a  pot.  They  ax-  all  c|uic't 
and  orderly,  no  angry  words  are  heard,  no  fjuarrelling  and 
shouting,  they  are  all  the  hest  of  friends,  and  make  them- 
M-lves  comfortahle  after  their  dav's  march,  talking  and 
laughing  together.  Their  wigs  are  dust-traps  and  make 
them  look  like  Indians.  Most  of  them  wear  a  pigtail, 
consisting  mostly  of  plaited  threads  with  white  lK)ne  rings 
and  small  silver  image  lx)Xes  which  a  have  couf)le  of 
turquoises  inlaid  in  the  lid.  Some  have  the  pigtail  wound 
round  the  head,  forming  a  singular  crown,  the  diadem  of 
the    wilderness. 

In  another  tent  the  dinner  was  finished  and  the  "covers" 
were  empty.  There  a  man  sat  with  an  awl.  cohhling  a 
torn  hoot;  another  sewed  on  firmly  the  girths  of  his  sarjdle; 
and  a  third  lay  on  his  hack,  with'  legs  crossed  and  an  arm' 
supporting  his  head,  and  took  his  after-dinner  nap.  Seen 
from  a  hove  he  makes  a  very  ahsurd  figure  with  his  huLH- 
noMiiis,  into  which  mice  might  easilv  walk  in  mistake  for 
their   holes. 


smirking  youth   is   smoking   his   pipe,    while 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP.  XXXVI 


24 

his   ncif^^hbour    busily   and    carefully  searches    for  suspected 
lodgers  "in  his  shecrskin. 

I  drew  several  of  them  ^vlthout  exciting  the  least 
uneasiness;  on  the  contrary,  they  make  a  joke  of  the 
sitting,  and  laughed  heartily  when  they  saw  their  counter- 
S"  which  tbev  embellished  with  prints  of  their  buttery 
fing  rs  on  the  margin.  They  asked  mo  why  I  drew  them 
and  for  what  purpose  I  wished  to  know  their  names  am 
ages  Thev  were  all  sympathetic,  polite,  and  friendly,  and 
i  caioved  their  societv  (Illustrations  193,  194)- 

A  be'^'ing  lama,  too,  looked  in ;  he  was  on  the  way  to 
Kailas,  and  was  quickly  sketched,  to  the  intense  amuse- 
ment of  the  other  men.  He  lx)re  a  lance  with  a  black 
tassel  and  red  strips,  a  timbrel,  an  antelope  horn  to  protect 
himself  against  snappy  dogs,  and  a  trombone  of  human 
bone  which  he  set  in  a  corner  of  his  mouth  vyhen  he  blew 
it  It  caused  him  much  amusement  to  be  the  object  ot 
universal  attention,  and  he  took  advantage  of  it  to  make 
acquaintance  with  the  nomads  with  a  view  to  an  appeal  to 
their  libcrahty  (Illustration  195)- 


'04 


196 


Hji,  11)4.    XoMADS  Sixth  OF  T\Rr..,  ".ANr.Ri.       nj;.    Mkniucwt  I,\\i\  lil.iiui\( 

ON   A  Ill"\l\N   Honk.  H)(i.      TlllKl  \.S    liov. 

Skitiho  l>v  thr  AullMr. 


mm^m^'m':im^^.M^W:^m^^im:Bm:  .^v:y 


L*.      -■■ 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

TARGO-GANGRI   AND   THE   SHURU-TSO 

Hitherto  we  had  experienced  no  difficulties,  but  at  Kokbo 
the  state  of  affairs  seemed  disquieting.  Our  old  man  in- 
formed me  that  he  had  sent  a  message  to  the  nomads  at 
the  Targo-gangri  mountain,  asking  them  to  hold  yaks  in 
readiness.  They  had  answered  that  they  could  not  think 
of  serving  a  European  without  express  orders,  and  that 
they  would  resort  to  force  if  ouc  present  guards  led  us  to 
the  lake.  The  old  man,  however,  was  not  put  out,  but 
believed  that  he  could  soon  bring  them  to  their  senses. 

On  April  26  we  march  north-westwards  in  a  sharp 
wind  over  the  pass  Tarbung-la.  The  sacred  mountain 
exhibits  all  the  Ix'auty  of  its  sixteen  peaks,  and  north, 
S.f  west,  is  seen  the  gap  where  we  expect  to  find  the 
Dangra-yum-tso.  The  view  is  of  immense  extent.  The 
valley  widens  out  and  passes  into  that  of  the  Targo- 
tsangpo.  Four  antelopes  sjjring  lightly  over  the  slopes; 
black  tents  are  not  to  Ix-  seen. 

When  we  again  reach  more  c  ^en  ground,  one  of  the 
most  magnificent  view:  I  have  seen  in  this  part  of  Tibet 
opens  out  to  the  west-south-west,  a  gigantic  range  of 
uniform  height,  with  snow-covered  pinnacles  and  short 
glaciers  between,  which  is  scarcely  inferior  to  Targo- 
gangri_  in  imposing  beauty  and  massiveness.  The  chain 
is  bluish  black  below  the  snowy  points;'  at  its  foot  lies  a 
lake  unknown  to  us,  the  Shuru-tso.  The  journey  to  the 
Xgangtse-tso  north-north-east  bv  the  way  of  the  Shang- 
Ijuk-la  pass  is  rcckMHcd  as  o"ly  three  davs'  march.  On 
the   eastern   flank  of  Targo-gangri    five   glaciers  are  deeply 

as 


26 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP 


imbcdclid,   wiiiK.   to  the  r,s(   of  .1, 

.'gradually  approac h?  pa  n'"  c,V  fiv  "'',  '^'t'^S  :-^'''^h  \vc 
'aces,  rdiVs  „f  a  tinu' uhe^tl  rD-ntn.  '"■'^'  ^'^■^'""'  '^■'- 
lari^cr  than  no^^•.  Two  ^vovcsma^?^T■  "!"''''  ''''  "^"^^ 
the  old  ,.an  gallops  after  t^^^^tt  t  rn"  ^'l'  ''\  ^■^'  ^'"'' 
^^t"P,a.s   if  to   wait   for   him       'hi    1^1    f       •     '"   ''^^'^' 

'-".!>•'  <i-n :  b^^^t  \.i:f ^;-^^{  ^^  ^^^  Ta^o- 

nvcr   is    divided    into    scvxrd      rn^  'j-''^'""'  ''"^'  ^erc  The 

nght  bank  lies  our  cnmn    V  ^"''    ''^"'^■'^-      On   the 

the^,es^Tar^SXsSir.:r^^^^ 
of   t.:n^-'i:;;:^^:-"^-  't  rr^-  .Here  a  troop 
had   been  sent   by  the  Governor  of  X^    ""'"T'^   "^'    ''^^ 
'i^-oni,',   u-ith  orders  to  stop  us  - fn  .         ''"^' Z'^'"  ^^ansa- 
'[>  ^'Jvance  to  the  hoi v  lake  ''     Thf  T  '^'^^'^^"'^  attempt 
sharper  watch     nml    hi  i         •  •      "'"^  t'"^^'  they  had  keot  i 
,^ind's  of  liberties-l^'r    ;!  C'lSl^^  '''\'   -"'''    ^^ 
before,  and  had  been  c 'mpJnVh L  tCt"^«  ^''^^'^:"  ^^^"^ 
arrn-al.     If   ,ve   had    hurried    we   shoul      h  •'''  f ''""'"^  «"'• 
hem  again.     One  of  the  h4  leader  ^a^^'^'en    before 

s.nn.  who,  as  he  told  mc  If^   u    u\^^'  '^"'^  ^undup 

^flaje     TscTin-     at     fh  '    K        f      ^''^    '"    January   with 
''^^^^   ^"^i^"   T^eri  !  wa     sdlfKr'-  ,  «\ '"f"™-'     me 
trouble   because  c/us    .n  1   1 -,1   k      '' ,  r"'  ^^'    ^^^    "^"^h 
of  sixty  ya„d>a,s   (ab^ut   /6-c1   ,^''?,  ""'"'^^   '"  P'-^^  ^  fine 
remarke,!    that   lillTtinl    "  /'? ,  P^'^'^'^'^""^.     When 
'''^   ^vas  so  j)oor  that   he   I  ir  ""n.t-      ^?^'}   "'^^    ^'^^^^^f  that 
answered    that    he   hacl    ext'or  eel     h  "^'  ^'^'   ''\  '"^^■'    ^^^^^'-^'P 
"^'hnatcs.     All,   too,   who  had   Ll  I   -  "'""l'^'      ""^    '^'^    ^^"''- 
as    Kui.les    had    be.n    heaWh     finn.    '4^'^'  ""^'   ''''''^    "^ 
^vho   attempted    to    "et     hroL),  "'•  1      ^^'    "^-^'t    i^-ropean 
have  no  en<i  of  dilT.cul  Ls  t^c^^n  ,,:?''^°,';^  ,f„  P^^^Port    would 

Lundup  pointed  to   ^  ml  T  -^  '''''^'  (Illustration  200). 
"orth  of  ou;  camp/  nd  s^i"    "n"   Promontory,  .00  .yards 
t^veen    the    Labr.m,:    rpLtf..;       '  ^ere  js  the  boundary  },p- 
-.-.    V    -.uiuiij..,;    ana    Xaktsang    (Lhasa). 


■  ■>&.<: 


CHAP. 


fm^m-mm. . .  -^.^k  w 


XV7-     l^-i  !"-(„  i,r.      S.  .M°  i;°  U\,  Ihr  M,i-iu   .ri  Mukc  luil■^-.iIll;.  (,;). 


-i^ 


% 


-[-.n  (  ;)  in  llu   iii~l.inc 


A/: 


J!). 


3?^-^f" 


i^ 


r 


-  -iV- 


K,;.     kl  i;l-i.  \M.i  I    I  i"M    r  wif   2    I.      s,  n,"  I...  \i,'..nM-.|ii:i;ili'iw  I  I  ',  uilli  llir  .\K"iii"-ili!iK'li"H  ' '■'■ii  ii  r  1" 


T  \i.i,M.(, ',\(.i:i    ii:ii\i    \   Hill    \i  \i;   Cwii"    I ;  J.     .\.   ;j°  W  .,  S,  i-luk 


■,y<»Tv,r:Wii|fey"a«'^ 


-  (- 


■J^-. 


!.).(.     'Iiii    CiiDMii-ri  Hii\c-,  (ii.'.irp  ii>i)\i    nil    Ki\' 

Sk.  I.  h.  -  l.v  ih.    \ 


a^fc-^^*"^>^,i!s^- 


1.1,  ii  r  1«  I..U.      S,  J-  \V.,  Al-i  121,  with  llu    Ali-i  I.I.  1  in.      S  ,.•  i -^   ;;°  U   ,  ill'    Mi-i\>    -  1   \I  uk.  lmi:L;--im  . «  ;  i 


Si  r~hik-j;MMi|i.i  I  ().      .\.    2ii^-\-°\\    \\\v  l).iiigr,i-yi  iii  l-i>  i  ;  i  ii.  ih.    ■li-t.i 


It     Kim  iiiN-i  \.   .\I  w   j;.    I'ji;  !cl.  lliu^tratinri  41  O. 
A  ill.    Aulh  ir 


i 


VXXVII 


TARGO-GANGRI   AND   THE   SHURL-TSO     27 


So  far  we  can  let  you  go,  Init  not  a  step    farther;    if  you 
attempt  it.  we  have  orders  to  tire  on  you." 

They  read  the  j)assi)ort  from  Shigatse.  and  afhrmed 
that  the  words  therein,  "on  the  direct  way  to  Ladak,"  did 
not  mean  that  we  had  j)ermission  to  make  all  sorts  of 
detours,  and,  above  all,  we  might  not  go  to  the  Dangra- 
vum-tso,  which  is  holy  and  is  in  the  territory  of  Lhasa. 
Gaw  Daloi  had  given  orders  that  he  should  be  informed 
daily  which  way  we  were  travelling.  If  they  did  not  olx.'y 
this  order  thev  would  lose  their  heads.  It  was  evident, 
then,  that  I  should  have  to  give  uj)  the  Dangra-yum-tso 
for  the  third  time,  and  ju.-^t  when  I  was  only  two  short 
days'   march  from  it. 

The  outline  of  the  mountain  stood  out  sharp  and  white 
in  the  moonshine  against  the  blue-black  starry  sky.  ^  The 
ne.xt  (lay  there  was  a  storm,  and  not  even  ttie  foot  of  Targo- 
gangri  was  visible,  much  less  the  icy-cold  heights  where 
the  winds  sing  their  heavenly  choruses  among  the  firn 
fields.  In  the  evening,  however,  when  the  weather  hafl 
cleared,  the  whole  mass  stood  clearly  out,  covered  with 
frcshlv  fallen  snow. 

Again  we  held  a  long  palaver  with  the  horsemen  from 
Naktsang.  I  told  them  that  I  would  not  leave  this  camp 
till  I  had  at  least  seen  the  lake  from  a  distance.  To  my 
delight  they  replied  that  though  they  were  obliged,  much 
against  their  inclination,  to  cause  me  the  disappointment 
of  not  visiting  the  lake,  they  would  not  prevent  me  from 
seeing  it  from  a  distance,  but  that  they  would  keep  a  good 
watch  lest  I  should  ride  off  behind  yonder  red  mountain  to 
the  north. 

They  had  scarcely  gone  when  our  old  Kyangdam  guide 
came  to  complain  that  the  horsemen  from  Naktsang  had 
threatened  his  life  because  he  had  ])rought  me  here.  I 
sent  for  the  Naktsang  men  again  and  impressed  on  thim 
strongly  that  they  had  no  cause  of  complaint  against  my 
escort,  for  it  was  entirely  my  fault  that  we  were^  here. 
Thev  promised  that  they  would  not  again  treat  the  Kyang- 
dam' men  harshly,  as  they  had  most  fortunately  caught  mr 
just  at  the  right  moment.  The  Kyangdam  men  could 
not   thank    me   enough    for    restoring    peace,  and    their   joy 


-^:^  '^^^ 


^i^  ^Fm^.mjm 


38 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CUAP. 


L^  I 


was  still  prcatcr  when  I  presented  the  whole  party  with 
monev  to  supplement  their  s(  anty  store  of  provisions.  They 
gave  vent  to  their  delight  by  performing  games,  dances, 
and  wrestling  lK)uts  in  f:-ont  of  my  tent,  anfl  their  hap|)y 
laughter  and  shouts  were  echoed  till  late  in  the  night  from 
the  mountains. 

Then  came  twelve  more  soldiers  from  Xaktsang  with 
fresh  orders  that  we  were  under  no  circumstances  to  Ix; 
allowed  to  proceed  further  northwards.  But  all  were 
friendly  and  polite;  we  joked  and  laughed  together,  and 
were  the  best  of  friends.  It  is  singular  that  they  never 
lose  their  patience,  though  I  am  always  causing  them 
worrv,   perplexity,   and    trouble    me   journeys. 

The  chief  of  Largep  was  more  unyielding  than  our  old 
friends  the  Xaktsang  gentlemen.  He  would  not  let  me 
climb  the  red  mountain,  but  insisted  that  we  should  leave 
the  district  ne.xt  day  and  travel  straight  to  Raga-tasam. 
However,  I  snubbed  him,  demanding  how  he,  a  small 
chieftain  in  the  mountains,  could  dare  to  s[)eak  so  per- 
emptorily. Even  the  Chinese  in  Lhasa,  I  said,  had 
treated  us  pleasantly  and  had  left  us  the  fullest  freedom. 
I  would  not  leave  the  sjjot  until  I  had  seen  the  lake.  I 
threatened  to  tear  the  Shigatse  passport  in  pieces,  and 
send  off  at  once  a  courier  to  Tang  Darin  and  Lien  Darin, 
and  wait  for  their  answer  at  the  foot  of  Targo-gangri. 
Then  the  chief  k-camc  embarrassed,  got  up  in  silence  arid 
went  away  with  the  others.  But  they  were  with  me  again 
in  the  evening,  and  with  a  humble  smile  they  said  that  I 
might  ride  up  the  red  mountain  if  I  would  promise  not  to 
go  to  the  shore  of  the  lake. 

A  thin  veil  of  mist  lay  over  the  country  all  day  long. 
But  when  the  sun  set,  the  western  sky  glowed  with  purple 
flames,  and  the  cold  glaciers  and  snowfields  were  thrown 
up  bv  a  background  of  fire. 

At  last,  on  April  29,  we  take  to  the  road  and  ride  up 
the  aflluent  Chuma,  flowing  down  from  the  right  and  called 
in  its  upper  course  Nagma-lsangpo.  We  climb  higher  and 
higher  up  regularly  curved  lake  terraces;  the  view  widens 
out  the  nearer  we  approach  the  summit,  where  the  Ladakis 
are  waiting  for  us  with  a  fire.     The  southern  basin  of  the 


XXXV..     TARGO 

-GAXCIRI 

AM) 

THK 

SIllKL'-'lSO 

2y 

Dangra-yum  tso 

was  cU-arlv 

visible 

as  a 

hluisli 

sahre    1j1. 

ule, 

and    thf    valKy 

of    the    fi 

ir^'o  tsa 

ngpo 

widens 

out    lik( 

.'    a 

triim|Hl    to   the 
t  ;isirr    fo    tr.w  i- 

l)r()a(l    plain 

l)esi<li 

•   the 

shore. 

It   was 

the 

neii 


iir- 


hcxxl  of  the  lake  because  it  was  marked  all  along  by  white 
glistening  ice  (lakes  and  dark  spots  where  l)Uslies  grow. 
.\t  the  end  of  July  the  river  is  said  Id  ri>e  so  high  that  it 
(annot    Ix-    crossed.     So    when    letter^    have    to    be   delivered 


to    no 


the   eastern    foot    of    the 


thi 


mountri _,    _.. 

weighted  with  a  stone  and  thrown  acr<»s  a  narrow  part 
of  the  stream. 

The  water  of  the  lake  is  said  to  be  as  salt  as  that  of 
the  Ngangt.se-tso,  and  is  not  fit  for  drinking;  but  never- 
theless i)ilgrims  drink  it,  Ik  c  ause  it  is  holy.  At  this  time 
the  winter  ice  was  breaking  up,  and  long  sheets  of  ice  lay 
only  at  the  shore.  In  contrast  to  most  other  lakes  of  'lilx-t, 
the  Dangra-yum-tso  runs  north  and  south,  and  it  narrows 
in  the  middle,  just  as  Xain  Sing  has  drawn  it  on  his  map; 
but  he  has  made  the  lake  a  little  too  large,  and  has 
esi)ecially  exaggerated  the  dimensions  of  the  southern 
basin.  A  horseman  can  travel  round  the  lake  in  five 
ordinary  or  seven  short  days'  journey;  the  i)ilgrim  road 
closely  follows  the  lake  shore.  The  pilgrims  alwavs  make 
the  circuit  of  the  lake  in  the  direction  of  the  hands  of  a 
watch,  if  they  arc  orthodo.x;  but  if  they  Ixlong  to  the 
Pembo  sect,  like  the  monks  of  the  Sershik-gompa,  they 
l)egin  their  march  in  the  opposite  direction.  Most  of 
them  come  in  late  summer  or  autumn.  I  was  told  that 
the  pilgrimage  round  the  lake,  which  of  course  must  1)0 
made  on  foot,  was  in  honour  of  Padma  Sambhava,  the 
saint  who  came  to  Tilx-t  in  the  year  747,  Ixcame  the 
founder  of  Lamaism,  and  enjoys  almost  as  great  a  rei)uta- 
tion  as  Buddha  himself.  He 'is  called  in  Tilxt  Lopon 
RinjK)chc,  and  his  image  is  generally  found  in  the  temples. 

Sershik-gompa,  of  which  we  had  frequently  heard,  and 
which  Xain  Sing  names  Sasik  Gombas  on  his  map,  stands 
on  an  even  slope  at  the  eastern  foot  of  the  mountain. 
The  monastery  is  under  the  Devashung,  and  has  twenty 
r\mbo  brethren  and  an  abbot  named  Tibha.  Some  o'f 
the  monks  are  said  to  be  well  off,  but  on  the    whole  the 


TRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


30 

,    :    not  rich-  it  is  sui.portf.1   by  nomads  in  Xaktsan-, 
^f-V"    f't,nc       1^    i'    a-    contains    {imi,cr    tran.portcl 

Tl:^^:^  t  ;srr:2',:' an.,  ^:;^i/  ;^  pf  ^  ^,  - , . 

can  al.o    ix    traMiic      ^^^^^^^^^^^  ,,^     ^^^^     p,^,^^^,)     ,vhich    1k'> 

and    the   miiihty   range  on   the    west 


crossed,     namely     the_ 
between    'I'argo-gangri 
of  the  Shuru-tso. 
The     short,    loftv. 


lottv.     meridional     range    which    '^\  '^'f'^^ 

'  r'7"„r  Ihc    r  i      m'.rkt..l    Tursot    Sangpo    on    h.s 

Z  tidfuKs'r  nom.l.    namcJ    .no    holy    n,oun.a,n 
'^''on' TK'v  l.a.k  I  took  levels,  assisted  by  UoUrt,  and 

::S;infn.^l.tl,an-,^..^^^^ 

Sne    irTarRo-Ransri    skirted    the    ^vestern    shore    a.    a 
''^■"irAe    ni,ht    there    «s    a    noise    like    an    avalanrte 

^j!;-^:rir-iS^s,t.i^r  Jl^ir  ^ 
?;rirT'h^^:i^s4"':«r's^^^t^r^^  ^n 

■-'^r-;™!;;t  '^rr-Sluhleso^e  friends  ^hey 
„,.,r,Z.oL.raohe.l  on  horseback  (  llustrat.on  ^oi).  Th.y 
alVwIre   roomy,  dark  cerise-c.loured    niamks,   and,    u,„.,i 


Si^^^S^^Pf^^^^ 


mm^^^^M 


3 


-3 


fss^aav: 


?s.'    y-aM^?S 


^.J^^?^^:- 


"m^^MWmm^m. 


■NMHMi 


mm 


::iu.fep:»:=^ 


ig^^fe^j 


-mm 


xxxvi,    TARGO-GANGRI  AND  THE   SHURU-TSO     31 

the  bareheaded  Largcp  men,  a  bandage  round  the  head,  in 
many  cases  drawn  through  silver  rings  Hki  bangles.  One 
had  a  tall  white  hat  like  a  truncated  cone,  with  a  flat  brim, 
a  head-covering  I  remembered  seeing  in  Xakchu.  Their 
guns,  with  the  military  pennants  on  the  forks,  they  had 
slung  over  their  shoulders,  and  their  sabres  stuck  out 
horizontally  from  their  girdles  in  silver-bound  scabbards 
decorated  with  three  pieces  of  imitation  coral.  Over  the 
left  shoulder  some  carried  a  whole  bandolier  of  gao  cases 
with  glass  fronts,  through  which  were  visible  the  little 
innocent  gods  which  bring  their  wearers  good  fortune  on 
their  journey.  Their  fat  little  horses  stamped  and  snorted, 
longing  for  their  old  well-known  pastures  on  the  shores  of 
the  Kyaring-tso.  They  also  were  decked  with  needlessly 
heavy  but  dainty  ornaments.  The  white  horses  with  red 
riders  on  iheir  backs  made  a  particularly  striking  picture. 
It  was  a  varied  scene  in  the  blazing  sunshine,  with  the 
snowy  summits  of  Targo-gangri  as  a  background  and  Nain 
Sing's  lake  to  the  north.  I  begged  them  to  greet  Hlaje 
Tsering  heartily  from  me,  and  tell  him  that  I  hoped  to  see 
him  again. 

And  then  they  struck  their  heels  into  their  horses, 
drew  together  into  close  order,  and  trotted  gaily  up  to  the 
level  surfaces  of  the  river  terraces.  Captivated  by  the 
appearance  of  the  departing  troop  I  ran  after  it^  and 
watched  the  dark  column  grow  smaller  at  the  red  spur, 
where  the  old  shore  lines  seemed  to  run  together. 
Singular  people  I  They  rise  like  goblins  from  the  depths 
of  their  valleys,  they  come  one  knows  not  whence,  they 
like  us,  visit  for  a  few  short  days  the  foot  of  the  snowy 
mountain,  and  then  they  vanish  again  like  a  whirlwind 
in  the  dust  of  the  horses'  hoofs  and  beyond  the  mysterious 
horizon. 

We,  too,  set  out,  and  I  left  the  Dangro-yum-tso  to  its 
fate,  the  dark-blue  waters  to  the  blustering  storm  and  the 
song  of  the  rising  waves,  and  the  eternal  snowfields  to  the 
whisper  of  the  winds.  May  the  changing  colours  of  the 
seasons,  the  beauty  of  atmospheric  effects  of  light  and 
shade,  gold,  purple,  a-'.d  grey,  pass  over  Padma  Sambhava's 
lake    amidst    rain    ainl    sunshine,    .^s    already    for    untold 


•>'J 


32 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


i 


thousands  of  years,  and  the  steps  of  believing,  yearning 
pilgrims   draw   a   chain   around   its  shores. 

Accompanied  l)y  Rolx'rt  and  our  aged  guide,  I  rode 
across  the  river,  which  carries  alx)Ut  140  cubic  feet  of  water, 
and  uj)  to  a  spur  of  Targo-gangri  in  order  to  procure  a 
rock  specimen.  One  glacier  tongue  after  another  of  the 
long  series  on  the  east  side  of  the  mountain  passes  out  of 
sight,  and  now  the  gap  disappears  through  which  we  had 
seen  a  corner  of  the  lake,  and  far  away  to  the  north  on  its 
other  side  the  outlines  of  light  blue  mountains. 

Six  hundred  sheep  were  grazing  on  a  slope  without 
shepherds.  Now  and  then  a  hare  was  started  in  the  thick 
tufts  of  steppe  grass.  From  the  screes  on  our  right 
was  heard  the  pleasant  chirp  of  partridges.  When  we 
were  far  away  two  shepherds  came  up  out  of  a  gorge  and 
drove  the  sheep  down  to  the  river.  At  the  lower  end  of 
the  moraine  of  a  glacier  stood  a  solitary  tent.  I  asked 
our  old  man  whac  the  spot  was  called,  but  he  swore  by 
three  different  gods  that  he  had  no  notion.  The  most 
southern  outskirt  of  Targo-gangri  hid  the  rest  of  the 
range,  but  Ixfore  we  reached  camp  No.  151  it  appeared 
again  foreshortened.  This  camp  stood  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  river. 

May  I.  Spring  is  come;  we  have,  indeed,  had  as 
much  as  29  degrees  of  frost  during  the  preceding  nights, 
but  the  days  are  fine  and  clear,  and  it  is  never  as  trying 
as  in  the  Chang-tang,  even  riding  ag.-'inst  the  wind.  At 
camp  No.  150  we  had  been  at  a  height  of  15,446  feet;  now 
we  go  slowly  down,  following  the  river  at  first,  but  leaving 
it  on  the  left  when  we  see  it  emerge  from  the  mountains 
as  through  a  gate.  Over  a  singularly  uniform  and  con- 
tinuous plain  without  fissures  or  undulations  we  now 
approach  in  a  south-westerly  direction  the  threshold  which 
separates  the  Shuru-tso  from  the  Dangra-yum-tso.  On 
the  south-west  side  of  Tangro-gangri  appear  six  glaciers, 
much  smaller  than  those  on  the  north  and  east,  and  rather 
to  be  regarded  as  spurs  and  corners  of  the  ice  mantle 
which  covers  the  higher  regions  of  the  massive.  The 
Shuru-tso  is  seen  as  a  fine  blue  line.  VV^e  approach  its 
shore    and    find    that    the    lake   is    completely   frozen    over. 


1Vi3a&Lk»4^bSi^£^<TS«* 


'1P 


.mm^txi^ 


I  \ 


■^  I 


^.^s^. 


I 

i 


XXXVII 


TARGO-GAXGRI   AND   THE   SIIURU-TSO     ^3 


We  make  a  halt  to  photograph  and  to  draw  a  panorama. 
Our  old  man  smokes  a  pipe,  and  Robert  and  Tashi  try 
which  can  snore  loudest.  When  I  am  ready  we  sneak  ofT 
quietly  from  the  two  sleepers.  Tashi  is  the  first  to  awake, 
understands  the  joke,  and  also  sneaks  off.  At  last  Robert 
awakes  and  finds  himself  alone,  but  he  soon  overtakes  us 

on  his  mule.  ^^      , 

Now    we    have    the    lake    close    on   our  right.       lo  the 
south   rise  grand    mountains,  one   of   the   loftiest  chains  of 
the  Trans-Himalaya,  raven  black  Ix-neath  the  sun,  but  the 
firn     fields    glitter    with     a    metallic     lustre.     Considerable 
terraces  skirt  the  bank,  and  the  valleys  running  down  from 
the    east    to    the    lake    cut    through    them,    forming    hollow 
ways    in    which    a    solitary    tent    stands    here    and    there 
guarded    by    a    savage    dog.     Wc    encamp    on    the    terrace 
above   the   Parva   vallev,   our   eight   black   tents   contrastmg 
strongly  with  the  yellow  soil  (i 5,594  f^^et).     Our  old  Tibetans 
from    Kyangdam   now   bid    us   farewell   and   receive   double 
payment  as  a  present.     In   front  of  us  are   the  congealed 
waters    of    the    Shuru-tso,    longing    to    be    released    by    the 
warm  spring  winds;    to  the  south   rises    the   Do-tsengkan, 
a  mighty  elevation  clothed  in  eternal  snow;    in  the  south- 
west the  sun  sinks  behind  the  huge  crest  of  the  mountains 
and    the   shadows   pass   silently   across   the   ice.    Soon   the 
evening  red  lingers  only  on  the  peaks  of  Targo-gangri  and 
Do-tsengkan,  and   then  another  night  falls  over  the  earth. 
It    is    a    pity    that    the    Tibetans    do    not  understand    the 
relations  of  the  sun  and  the  planets,  for  they  might  regard 
the   solar   system   as   a    unique    immeasurable    prayer    mill 
revolving  in  space  to  the  glory  of  the  gods.    In  the  dark- 
ness the  lofty  mountains  to  the  north-west  are  misty  and 
indistinct,  but  when  the  moon  rises  they  and  the  lake  are 
illuminated    alike    and    seem    to  be    connected.    From    our 
terrace  we  seem  to  have  a  bottomless  abyss  below  us. 

On  May  2  wc  ride  southwards  along  the  shore  (Illus- 
tration 205).  Like  the  Dangra-yum-tso,  the  Shuru-tso  runs 
almost  north  and  south,  lying  in  a  longitudinal  valley  which 
has  this  direction,  so  unusual  in  Tibet.  There  is  open  water 
along  the  bank,  and  the  waves  splash  against  the  cdgi-  of 
the  porous  ice,  on  which  wild  ducks  sit,  often  in  long  rows. 

VOL.  11  ° 


d\ 


34 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


Owing  to  the  swell  the  water  on  the  bank  is  black  with 
decayed  alf,';e  and  rotting  water-weeds,  in  which  wild  gcesc 
cackle  and  scream.  As  we  come  to  the  regularly  curved 
southern  shore  of  the  lake,  with  its  bank  of  sand,  we  see  the 
well-known  signs  of  a  storm  on  the  plain  Ix'forc  us,  white  dust 
swirls,  stirred  up  in  spirals  from  the  ground  by  the  wind, 
like  the  smoke  of  a  shot.  After  a  time  we  find  ourselves 
in  the  path  of  the  storm  —  it  will  not  need  many  such 
storms  to  break  up  the  whole  lake  and  drive  its  loosened 
ice-sheets  to  the  eastern  bank.  We  ride  across  the  river 
Kyangdam-tsangpo,  which  comes  from  the  Trans-Hima- 
laya, and  bivouac  on  its  western  terrace  15,548  feet.  Here 
we  have  the  whole  lake  in  front  of  us  to  the  north,  and 
behind   it   Targo-gangri,  now  smaller  again. 

Here  our  attendants  were  changed.  The  Largep 
chief,  who  had  been  so  overbearing  at  first,  was  as  meek 
as  a  lamb  at  the  moment  of  parting,  and  gave  me  a  kadakh, 
a  sheep,  and  four  skins  of  butter.  Every  morning  when 
the  caravan  sets  out  Ishe  comes  to  my  tent  to  fetch  my 
two  puppies;  Muhamed  Isa  has  the  third,  which  he  means 
to  train  up  to  be  a  wonderful  animal,  and  the  fourth  has 
been  consigned  to  Sonam  Tsering.  They  have  grown  a 
deal  already,  and  howl  and  bite  each  other  on  the  march, 
when  they  ride  in  a  basket  on  the  back  of  a  mule.  They 
are  graceful  and  playful,  and  give  me  great  amusement 
with  their  tricks. 

From  the  little  pass  Dunka-la  we  had  a  grand  and 
instructive  view  over  the  great  Shuru-tso,  which  is  of  a 
somewhat  elongated  form  and  is  convex  to  the  west. 
Next  day  we  crossed  the  pass  Ben -la  in  a  south-westerly 
storm.  It  raged  and  blew  day  and  night,  but  the  air 
remained  quite  clear.  On  the  6th  we  rode  up  a  steep 
path  to  the  Angden-la.  In  the  rather  deep  snow  and  the 
tiring  rubbish  the  horses  can  get  on  only  c.  step  at  a  time, 
and  have  often  to  stop  and  rest.  Tsering  rides  past  us 
with  his  yak  caravan,  and  four  Ladakis  have  stayed  behind 
in  the  vall'^y  suffering  from  acute  headache.  At  the  top 
of  the  pass  (18,514  feet)  stands  a  huge  cairn  with  strings  and 
>lieanK-i>,  their  pra\er.^  rising  to  the  dwellings  of  the  gods 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind  (Illustrations  209,  210,  207). 


^m!>:B--'¥^^ 


■-."^l;=-->^,=*Si-v3?i ' 


i&siK^r-  :«?^^ae4^. 


XXXV 


I.     TAKGO-GANGRI  AND   THE  SHURU-TSO     35 


No  words  ra-'  dcscrilK-  the-  [.anorama  around  us.  Wc 
stand  alx)vc-  a  sea  of  mountains  ith  hire  and  there  a 
predominant  |>eak.  To  the  M)Ulh  w  see  tie  Himalayas 
deanr  and  sharper  than  Ixfore,  and  can  percei\e  where 
the  valley  of  the  Brahmaputra  runs  on  this  side  of  the 
white  ridge.  To  the  north  the  Sliuru-tso  is  much  ^ore- 
shortened,  and  the  Uangra-yum-t.so  is  hidden  by  Targo- 
gangri,  which  is  sharply  defined,  though  we  are  si.x  days' 
journey  from  it.  Nay,  even  the  contours  of  the  miglity 
mountains  on  the  north-ea  t  shor^  of  the  lake,  which  we 
saw  in  winter  from  the  north,  are  istinguishahle,  and  they 
lie  fully  ten  days'  journey  from  liere.  I  sit  at  the  fire, 
drawing  and  making  observations,  as  on  all  the  passes. 
I  am  again  on  the  Tr.'s  Himalaya,  53  miles  from  the 
Chang  la-Pod-la,  and  now  cross  it  for  the  third  time. 
Northwards  the  water  drains  to  the  Shuru-tso,  southwards 
to  the  Raga-tsangpo.  My  feet  stand  on  the  oceanic  water- 
shed, my  eyes  roam  over  this  huge  system,  which  I  love 
as  my  own  possession.  For  the  part  where  I  now  stand 
was  unknown  and  waited  millions  of  years  for  my  coming, 
lashed  by  innumerable  storms,  washed  by  autumn  rains, 
and  wrapped  in  snow  in  winter.  With  every  new  pass  on 
the  watershed  of  the  gigantic  rivers  of  India  which  I  have 
the  good  fortune  to  cross,  my  desire  and  hope  become 
ever  greater  to  follow  its  winding  line  westwards  to 
regions  already  known,  and  to  fill  up  on  the  map  the 
great  white  blank  north  of  the  Tsangpo.  I  know  very 
well  that  generations  of  explorers  will  be  necessary  to 
examine  this  mighty,  intricate  mountain  land,  but  my 
ambition  will  be  satisfied  if  I  succeed  in  making  the 
first  reconnaissance. 

We  leave  the  cairn  and  the  fire,  its  smoke  covering 
the  summit  of  the  pass  as  with  a  torn  veil,  and  follow  the 
brook,  of  which  the  water  will  some  day  reach  the  warm 
sea  after  a  thousand  experiences.  I  turn  a  page  and 
begin  a  new  chapter  in  my  life  as  an  explorer;  the 
desolate  Chang-tang  remains  behind  me,  and  Tarj:o- 
gangri  sinks  below  the  horizon  —  shall  I  ever  see  its 
majestic  peaks  again? 

We  descend  rapidly  with  the  wind  in  our  faces.    Large 


-4MP-"  !«flW-J*!i^ 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


i      ? 


1)1()(  ks  of  ice  fill  the  valliy  iKiltom  iKtwccn  walls  of  I'lark 
sthi>ts  and  [xjrphyry.  Srvcral  larj,'e  >i(le  valle\s  opin 
into  ours,  and  discrtni  licartiis  air  signs  of  tlir  visits  of 
nomads  in  summer.  Our  valley  unili-s  with  the  large 
Kyamihu  valKy,  which  i>  h  miles  broad  an<l  descemls 
from  the  Sha  la,  the  pass  of  the  i'rans  Himalaya  over 
which  our  TilKtans  had  wished  to  guide  us.  The  land 
round  the  nomad  tents  of  Kyam  is  tlat  and  open. 

On  May  7  we  march  on  in  a  terrible  wind  with  the 
blue  mirror  of  the  Amchok-tso  on  the  south.  The  ground 
is  Hat  and  hard.  .\  hare  runs  like  the  wind,  as  if  his  life 
were  in  danger,  over  this  llat,  where  he  cannot  find  the 
slightest  cover.  Eight  sprightly  antelopes  show  us  their 
graceful  profiles  as  they  spring  lightly  along,  rising  from 
the  horizon  against  a  background  of  sky.  Robert  has 
drawn  his  fur  over  his  head,  and  sits  in  the  saddle  like 
a  lady,  with  both  his  legs  dangling  on  the  sheltered  side, 
while  Tashi  leads  his  mule.  Hut  as  the  wind  still  blows 
through  him.  he  lays  himself  on  his  stomach  across  the 
saddle.  My  hors^'  sways  when  the  wind  catches  the  broad 
breast  cf  its  rider.  'Ihe  wind  howls  and  moans  in  my  ears,  it 
whines  and  whistles  as  it  used  to  do  in  the  Chang-tang, 
a  whole  host  of  indignant  spirits  of  the  air  seem  to  com- 
plain of  all  the  misery  they  have  seen  in  the  world. 

The  plain  is  called  Amchok-tang,  and  wc  march  over  it, 
following  the  main  stream.  Amchok-yung  is  a  village  of 
five  tents,  where  are  some  fine  mauis  Ix'decked  with  yak 
skulls,  antelope  horns,  and  s!al)s  of  sandstone,  one  of  them, 
of  a  regular  rectangular  form,  measuring  40  inches.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  village  disappeared  as  if  by  magic;  only 
an  old  man  gave  us  his  company  as  we  inspected  two  of 
the  tents.  But  when  wc  had  ridden  on,  the  people  crept 
out  again  from  behind  dung  heaps,  hillocks,  and  grass 
tufts,   where  they  had   hidden  themselves. 

The  wind  bores  thick  yellow  sand  out  of  the  ground 
into  a  spout,  which  is  so  dense  that  it  looks  black  on  the 
shady  side.  It  winds  up  in  cyclonic  spirals  like  the  smoke 
of  a  tremendous  explosion,  and,  like  a  strange  ghost,  dances 
across  the  plain,  and  does  not  fall  to  pieces  till  it  reaches 
the  foot  of  the  eastern  mountains. 


W 


.,'^-', 


i^ 


'^^^rt  az^m'^^x 


..^*3RV 


l^    \i 


7li0-i^Sa 


v^ 


XXXVII 


TARGO-GANGRI   AND  THE  SHURU-TSO    37 


In   our  camp   of  day,   situatt-il   on   the   north-west 

shore  of   the   AmchoV  we   heard    Chinese   and   Tibetan 

officials  spoken  of  wl  ere  shortly  to  ride  through  the 
country  in  all  directions  counting  the  tents,  people  and 
herds.  It  was  thought  that  this  inspection  was  connected 
with  the  new  taxation  which  the  Chinese  intend  to  intro- 
duce. 

My  boat  lay  ready  on  the  strand,  for  May  8  was  to  be 
devoted  to  an  excursion  on  the  Amchok-tso. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

TO   THE   OUTLET   OF   THE   CH.\KTAK-TSANGPO   IN   THE 
BRAHMAPUTRA 

The  lake  was  free  from  ice,  and  only  on  the  northern  shore 
some  blocks  rocked  on  the  surf.     A  south-west  wind  swept 
constantly  over  the  country,  and  there  was  no  prospect  of 
good  weather.     A  dozen  Tibetans  followed  me  at  a  respect- 
ful  distance.     I   begged    them   to  come   nearer   and   sx-e   us 
start      The   boat   was   brought   down   to   the   water,   Rehim 
AH  and  Shukkur  took  their  i)laces,  and  Lama  earned  me 
to   the   boat   through   the   slowly  deepening   water     A   pro- 
montory to  the  south,  34°  E.,  was  L;ed  as  our  goal,  and    he 
oarsmen    began    their    struggle    witu    the    waves.     For    the 
first   hour   the   lake    was   so   shallow   that    the   oars   s  ruck 
the     bottom     and     stirred     up    mky-black    mud.     Shukkur 
cries  out  in  time  with  the  oars,  "Shubasa    ya    afenn,    bis- 
millah,  va  barkadiallah"  -  to  cite  only  a  few  vyords  of  his 
inexhaustible     repertoire.     Rehim     All's    oar    gives    me     a 
splash  as  it  dips  in,  but  I  am  soon  dry  again  in  the  wind 
The   swell    stirs   up    the    mud    from   the    bottom,   and    the 
water   is   so   shallow    that    the   waves   show   a   tendency   to 
break   even    out   in   the   middle   of   the   lake. 

Now  the  sandspouts  begin  their  threatening  dance  on 
the  western  shore,  and  in  that  direction  the  water  gleams 
white  The  storm  sweeps  over  the  Amchok-tso,  and  the 
two  Mc.hammedans  must  put  forth  all  their  strength  to 
f„rc-  the  boat  forward  against  win.l  and  water.  1  he 
swell  grows  heavier,  the  depth  is  7.9  feet,  and  the  water 
assumes  a  greener  In.e.  Shukkur  .AH.  our  old  hsherman, 
puts  out  his  line,   l>ut   nothing   but   floating  alga;  will  bite. 

38 


.•01) 


Asi.l'KN   1   \,    A    r  X---'    "^ 


Ml     Ik  \\>  Him  .1.  \\ 


i 


CUAP.  XXXVIII 


CIIAKTAK-TSAXGPO   OUTLET 


39 


y 


In  several  places  arc  seen  wild  ducks,  gulls,  and  wild-pccse. 
Nomads  have  just  arrived  and  are  putting  up  their  tents 
in  a  gorge  on  the  eastern  shore.  At  length  we  reach  the 
promontory,  having   sounded    a    maximum  depth  of  only  12 

feet. 

After  observations  have  been  taken,  a  panorama 
sketched,  and  dinner  eaten,  we  again  set  off  in  a  northerly 
direction,  and  the  txxit  dances  Ufore  the  brisk  wind 
lightly  as  a  wild  duck  ovi  the  waves.  We  sail  past 
three  more  tents,  sound  10.2  feet,  and  approach  the 
northern  shore,  where  the  water  is  only  20  inches  deep, 
and  is  a  muddy  soup.  We  run  aground  at  a  distance  of 
100  yards  from  the  bank.  Rabsang  comes  up  running, 
leading  my  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  some  other  Ladakis 
follow  him.  They  "help  us  to  land,  and  light  a  much 
needed  fire  at  the  foot  of  the  sand  terrace  which  here 
rises    from    the    bank. 

The  river  Kyam-chu  enters  the  Amchok-tso  on  the 
north  side,  and  only  i\  miles  to  the  west  of  its  muddy 
delta  the  Dongmo-chu  flows  out  of  the  lake  towanls  its 
confluence  with  the  Raga-tsangpo  in  the  east.  Properly 
speaking,  the  Dongmo  is  only  the  continuation  of  the 
Kyam-chu,  with  the  lake  hanging  like  a  bag  on  its  right 
bank. 

After  the  teat  has  been  folded  up,  Muhamed  Isa  has 
to  show  us  the  way  on  horseback  over  the  grass-grown 
sandhills.  He  guides  me  across  the  twenty  shallow  and 
treacherously  swampy  delta  arms  of  the  Kyam-chu. 
It  is  dark,  but  a  beacon  fire  nas  been  lighted  in  the  camp, 
and  the  cakes  of  dung  are  hi  ated  to  whiteness  in  the 
strong  wind,  and   shine   like  electric   light. 

Next  day  I  was  up  before  the  sun,  in  order  to  take  an 
observation.'  The  thermometer  had  sunk  in  the  night  to 
0.3°,  and  the  wind  blew  regularly  as  a  trade-wind.  It  is 
pleasant  to  see  the  day  dawn  in  the  east.  and_  life  begin 
anew  among  the  tents. '  The  hired  yaks  have  lain  tethered 
during  the  night,  and  now  they  are  allowed  to  wander 
freely  over  the  pasture.  Sleepy  yawns  are  heard  in  the 
tents,  and  men  come  out  and  make  uj)  the  fires;  the  jug 
bubbles  in  which  the  morning  tea  is  stirred  up  with  butter, 


40 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


ami  kettles  arc  set  on  three  stones  over  the  fire.  The 
puppies  play  in  the  open,  and  are  glad  that  they  have  not 
to  roll  al)out   to-day  in  a  basket. 

The  da}s  and  months  fly  by  to  a  chorus  of  storms,  and 
sf.ring  still  delays  its  coming.  In  the  evening  songs  of 
the  Ladakis  I  fancy  I  hear  an  undertone  of  home  sickness, 
and  they  rejoice  at  every  day's  march  which  brings  us  a 
little  further  westwards.  When  wv  woke  ne.xt  morning, 
it  blew  as  fresh  as  ever,  and  Robert  had  made  himself  a 
mask  with  Tibetan  spectacles  sewed  into  the  eye-holes; 
he  looked  very  comical  in  this  contrivance,  which  was  very 
appropriate  in  this  land  of  religious  masquerades. 

The  road,  ascending  the  broad  valley  of  the  Pu-chu, 
led  over  open,  slightly  undulating  ground  to  Sermelartsa. 
Here  old  Guffaru  was  reported  sick;  he  suffered  from 
colic,  and  was  well  nursed.  But  late  at  night  Robert 
came  breathless  to  my  tent  to  tell  me  the  old  man  was 
dying.  When  I  came  to  the  tent  the  son,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  keep  the  shroud  read),  sat  weeping  lx;side  his 
father,  while  the  other  men  warmed  their  caps  over  the 
fire  and  applied  them  to  the  body  of  the  patient.  I 
oniered  him  a  cold  compress,  but  he  askcfl  me,  to  the 
intense  amusement  of  others,  just  to  go  back  to  my  tent 
again.  Muhamed  Isa  laughed  till  he  rolled  over;  Guffaru 
.sat  upright  on  his  bed,  moaned  and  groaned,  and  Ix^gged 
mc  to  go  away.  I  gave  him  a  strong  dose  of  opium,  and 
next  morning  he  was  so  brisk  that  he  walkeci  all  the  way, 
though  a  horse  was  at  his  disposal.  The  remains  of 
Burroughs  and  Wellcome's  medicine  chest  had  saved  his 
life;  he  was  thankful  and  pleased  that  his  shroud  was  not 
required  this  time. 

OnMay  ii  we  mounted  to  the  pass  Lungring  (17,697  feet) 
in  a  bitterly  cold  snowstorm,  and  descended  the  valley  of  the 
same  name  to  the  l)ank  of  the  upper  Raga-tsangpo.  On 
the  1 2th  we  marcherl  upstream;  the  valley  is  broad,  and 
is  bounded  on  the  north  by  great  mountains.  The  ther- 
mometer had  sunk  to  -0.8°,  and  the  storm  was  dead 
against  us.  Occasionally  it  abated  so  much  that  we  could 
hear  the  footfalls  of  the  horses  on  the  detritus,  but  we 
were  Ix'numk'd   when  we  came  to  the  camp.     Thick  snow 


i  1 


\ 


XXXVUI 


CHAKTAK-TSANGPO   OUTLET 


4« 


ffll  all  the  aftt-rnoon.  My  [nippies  sat  toptthcr  in  the 
tint  door  and  j^rowUd  at  iIk-  failing'  llakcs,  hut  when  they 
saw  it  was  no  use,  they  snajiped  at  the  llakes  as  though 
they  were  Hies  and  pawed  at  them.  Then  they  went  back 
into  the  tent,  lay  on  the  frieze  blanket  in  the  corner,  and 
let  it  snow  on. 

On  the  next  day's  march  wc  passed  Kamba-sumdo, 
where  the  two  head  sources  of  the  Raga  tsangpo  unite; 
the  one,  coming  from  the  west,  is  named  Chang  shung, 
the  other,  from  the  south-west,  Lo-shung,  i.e.  "Xorthern" 
and  "Southern  Valley."  The  Chang-shung  is  the  larger. 
The  Lo-shung  we  had  to  cross  twice,  and  found  the  Ix'd 
full  of  stones  connected  by  slippery  ice.  In  the  west  a 
large  snow-covered  ridge  appeared,  the  Chomo-uchong, 
or  "High  Xun,"  which  was  discovered  by  Xain  Sing. 
Ryder  measured  it  and  produced  an  exact  map  of  it. 
Belts  of  snow  descend  from  the  white  summits  down  the  dark 
flanks.     Other  Tibetans  called  it  Choor-jong  (Illustration  212), 

Still  marching  south-westwards  we  approached  at  an 
acute  angle  the  great  main  road  between  Lhasa  and 
Ladak,  the  so-called  lasam.  As  though  to  show  its 
importance  a  caravan  was  just  at  the  time  travelling  west- 
wards in  three  columns.  It  moved  so  slowly  through  the 
landscape  that  we  had  to  watch  the  mountain  spur  behind 
to  convince  ourselves  that  the  small  black  lines  were  moving 
at  all.  Soon  afterwards  we  pitched  our  tents  in  Raga-tasam 
(16,234  feet),  a  station  on  the  great  high  road,  where  we 
came  in  contact  with  the  rente  of  the  Knglish  expedition 
under  Ryder  and  Rawling  for  the  first  time  since  leaving 
Shigatse.  Whatever  the  immediate  future  had  in  store 
for  me,  it  was  above  all  things  my  desire  to  avoid  this 
route  as  much  as  possible.  For  the  map  which  Ryder  and 
\Voo<l  had  executed  is  the  1«.'st  that  has  l)een  surveyed  of 
any  part  of  Tibet;  I  could  add  nothing  new  to  it  with  my 
modest  equipment.  But  if  I  passed  to  the  north  or  south 
(jf  their  Une  of  march,  I  could  supplement  their  map  with 
my  own  explorations.  In  this  I  actually  so  far  succeeded 
that  out  of  eighty-three  days'  marches  to  Tokchen  on  the 
Manasarowar  only  two-and-a-half  days'  march  ran  along 
their  route. 


4* 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


CBAP. 


As  I  now  ptrrrivid  that  \w  should  have  to  travel  on 
thi'  road  uliich  \ain  Siii^  in  thr  yiar  i-H^s,  and  Ryder 
and  Kawlinj^  and  lluir  coniradi^  in  i<;04,  hail  |)as>(.d 
alont;,  1  WTotf,  after  consultation  with  koUrt  and 
Muhami'd  Isa,  to  Tanj^  Darin  and  Lien  D.irin  in  Lhasa. 
I  npresented  in  an  urgent  ajipeal  to  the  former,  the 
Ilif^h  Commissioner,  that  it  ould  not  dash  with  any 
treaty  if  I,  being  already  in  Tiljet,  travelled  to  Ladak  by 
one  road  or  another,  |)roviiled  that  I  aetually  did  go 
thither,  and  that  I  therefore  Ixgged  permission  to  take 
the  following  route:  I  wished  to  take  my  homeward  way 
past  the  lake  Tidenam-tso,  of  which  Xain  Sing  had  heard, 
then  to  visit  the  Dangra  yum  tso,  and  thence  to  proceeil 
to  Tradum  and  to  the  (jhalaring  tso,  the  holy  mountain 
Kailas,  the  Manasarowar  lake,  the  sources  of  the  Indus 
and  the  Brahmaputra,  and  lastly  Gartok.  To  the  other, 
the  Amban  (;f  Lhasa,  I  also  wrote  al)<)Ut  the  way  I  desired 
to  take,  and  promised  to  send  him  a  nport  about  it  from 
(Jartok.  I  told  Ijoth  that  I  wished  fc^r  a  s[)eedy  answer, 
and   would  wait   for  it  in   Raga-tasam. 

As  soon  as  I  had  come  to  a  decision,  I  called  Tundup 
Sonam  and  Tashi,  and  told  them  to  get  their  sleep  over  by 
midniglit.  Then  I  wrote  the  al)ove-mentioned  letters  and 
letters  to  my  parents  and  'o  ^hljor  O'Connor.  When  my 
corresjjondence  was  ready,  it  was  past  midnight.  The 
camp  had  lain  several  hours  in  sleep  when  I  marie  the 
ni^ht  watchman  wa!  en  the  two  messengers  and  Muhamed 
Isa.  Their  orders  were  such  as  they  had  never  received 
Ixfore.  They  were  to  travtl  day  and  night  along  the 
220  miles  to  Shigatse  and  hand  over  my  letters  to  Ma. 
They  need  lot  wait  for  an  answer,  for  I  had  asked  the 
Mandarins  to  send  me  sjiecial  couriers.  Provisions  they 
need  not  take,  for  they  \\ould  be  able  to  git  everything 
on  the  great  high-road,  and  I  gave  them  money  to  hire 
the  horses  they  required.  They  .vould  be  able  to  reach 
their  journey's  end  in  ten  days,  and  in  a  month  we  ought 
to  have  an  answer.  If  they  did  not  find  us  in  Raga- 
tasam  on  their  return,  they  v. ere  to  follow  in  our  track. 

Tunduj)  Sonam  and  i'ashi  were  in  g(Kxl  spirits  and 
full  of  hope  when    Muhamed  Isa  and   I  accompanied  them 


XXXVII 


CHAKTAK-TSANGI'O   OUTLET 


43 


outside  tin-  camp,  and  watched  them  disappear  intn  the 
(hirk  night.  They  niacK-  a  (Utour  to  avoid  the  twelve 
hla(k  tents  standing'  hire,  lest  the  numerous  dops  of  the 
viHage  should  bark.  It  was  not  far  to  the  great  high-road, 
and  at  the  next  tasani,  as  the  stations  are  called,  they 
could  hire  horses  at  daybreak.  Muhamed  Isa  and  I  sat 
a  while  in  my  tent  in  lively  conversation  alxmt  our 
prospects.  Not  till  I  had  crept  into  Ud  after  a  tiring 
day  dir'  it  occur  to  me  that  it  was  f)erhaps  cruel  to  let 
the  two  men  ride  alone  ilay  and  night  through  TiK-t, 
Hut   it  was   too   late,    they   must   now   fulfil    their   mission. 

There  was  no  hurry  now.  We  stayed  here  seven 
days.  Westwards  the  way  was  open,  but  not  the  way 
I  wished  tf)  take,  and  therefore  we  were  [)risoners  in  our 
own  tents.  "Patience,"  whispered  the  ceaseless  winds. 
The  unknown  land  lay  to  the  north;  I  could  not  give  it  up 
till  all  my  elTorts  had  proved  fruitless.  We  had  cold  un- 
pleasant weather,  with  frec|uently  more  than  36  degrees  of 
frost,  and  on  the  night  of  May  15  as  much  as  46.4  degrees. 
The  Til)etans  said  that  this  neigh bourhoo<l  is  always  cold, 
even   when  spring  reigns  all   around. 

I  lay  on  my  Ix-d  and  read  David  Coppcrfidd,  Dombey 
and  Son,  and  The  Nmronics,  for  I  had  now  a  whole 
lib;  iry  to  read  through,  the  gift  of  the  obliging  Major 
O'Connor.  Rolxrt  gave  me  lessons  in  Hindustani,  and 
I  drew  types  of  the  i)eople.  A  i)uppy  of  the  same  age  as 
our  own  warily  came  u[)  to  my  tent  and  got  a  breakfast. 
Mamma  Pup{)y  was  by  no  means  please<l  with  this  wayside 
guest,  who  looked  comical,  as  shy  and  quiet  as  a  mouse; 
he  sat  by  the  hour  together  at  the  fire  and  looked  at  me, 
at  length  falling  asleep  and  turning  on  his  side.  When 
he  appcaral  again  at  dinner,  he  was  thoroughly  worried 
by  Puppy,  but  nevertheless  went  calmly  to  the  family  mat 
and  laid  himself  down.  Puppy  was  furious,  but  so  dum- 
founded  at  this  unexi)cctcHj  imi)udencc  that  she  laid  herself 
down  on  the  ground  Ix'side  the  mat. 

TilK-tans  came  every  day  to  my  tent  and  imf)lored  us 
to  make  a  start.  When  this  proved  useless,  they  declared 
at  length  that  the>  lould  no  longer  supply  us  with  pro- 
visions, for  nc  more  were  to  Ix;  had  in  the  neighljourho(xJ. 


^^^M^^MiJ^E' 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  und  ISO  TEST  ChaOT  No    ? 


1.0 


I.I 


;-  iiiM 

I:  i^ 

•-        i40 


ilia 

[12.2 

[2.0 

1.8 


1.25 


1.4 


1.6 


^     APPLIED  IM^GE     Inc 


■^.'    •*82  -  0300       Phofi« 


44 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


'II 


''r 


ll 


I  asked  them,  as  an  experiment,  whether  they  woulc' 
forward  two  letters  to  the  Mandarins  in  Lhasa,  but  they 
replied  that  they  had  n(j  authority  to  do  this.  They  were 
much  astonished  when  they  heard  that  I  had  sent  off 
letters  five  days  previously.  For  two  days  I  lay  in  bed, 
for  1  was  (juite  at  an  end  of  my  strength,  and  made 
Rolxjrt    read    to    me. 

On  Whitsunday,  May  19.  wc  had  another  long  palaver. 
The  Tilx'tans  read  to  me  the  instructions  they  had  re- 
ceived from  Lhasa,  which  were  dated  "on  the  tenth  day 
of  the  second  month  in  the  year  of  the  fiery  sheep."  I, 
was  there  called  Hedin  Sahib,  and  the  orders  contained 
the  following  clauses:  "Send  him  out  of  the  country. 
Let  him  not  turn  aside  from  the  tasam,  and  guide  him 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left.  Supply  him  with 
horses,  yaks,  servants,  fuel,  grass,  and  everything  he 
wants.  The  prices  he  must  pay  are  the  usual  prices  fixed 
bv  the  Government.  Give  him  at  once  anything  he  asks 
for  and  refuse  him  nothing.  But  if  he  will  not  conform 
to  the  directions  on  his  passport,  but  says  he  will  take 
other  routes  independently,  give  him  no  provisions,  but 
keep  firm  hold  of  him  and  send  off  messengers  at  once 
to  the  Devashung.  Do  not  venture  to  think  for  your- 
selves, but  olx.\v.  -Any  one  in  the  provinces  who  docs  not 
obey  will  Ik-  Ix-aten ;  so  run  the  regulations  you  have  to 
conform  to.  If  he  gives  no  trouble,  see  that  the  nomads 
serve  him  well  and  do  him  no  harm  on  the  way  to  Gartok. 
Then  it  will  be  the  business  of  the  Garpuns  (the  two 
\'icerovs)  to  take  him  under  their  protection." 

And  vet  I  was  not  satisfied.  I  told  them  that  I  could 
not  think  of  conforming  to  my  passport,  which  was  con- 
trary to  my  religion,  and  that  I  must  go  northwards  from 
the  Chomo'-uchong  to  Saka-<lzong.  They  were  quite  at 
lilxTty  to  send  messengers  to  the  Devashung.  We  would 
wait.  Then  they  held  a  council,  and  at  length  agreed 
to  let  us  take  the  northern  route,  but  wc  must  set  out 
on  Mav  21. 

I  lav  on  mv  k'd  and  dreamed  of  the  tramp  of  horses 
coming  iujiii  Imiii  liic  ca>i  <unl  me  uCm,  in  inc  roacis 
oi)en  to  me  to  the  mysterious  mountain  system  in  the  north, 


1 


m 


■■■f  ;^'^?^H}^ 


^^^':-i^:^S^';ii6^ 


IK'tV"! 


r 


xxxviii 


CHAKTAK-TSANGPO   OUTLET 


45 


round  which  my  plans  and  my  dreams  circled  continually 
like  young  eagles. 

So  we  set  out  on  May  21,  north-westwards,  and  saw 
the  summits  of  the  Chomo-uchong  disappear  iK'hind  its 
outskirts.  From  the  camp  we  could  see  several  valleys 
in  the  north-west  drained  by  the  source  streams  of  the 
Raga-tsangiK).  Just  Ix-vond  Raga-tasam  we  again  left 
the  route  of  the  EngUsh  exjxxJition,  and  on  the  22nd 
climbed  up  to  the  pass  Ravak-la,  which  lies  on  a  low 
ridge  between  two  of  the  source  streams  of  the  Raga- 
tsangpo.  On  the  23rd  we  crossed  four  passes.  The 
Kichung-la  is  the  watershed  betv.cen  the  Raga-loshung 
and  the  Chungsang,  a  river  which  takes  an  indejx^ndent 
course  to  the  Tsangjx).  The  ascent  to  the  fourth  pass, 
the  Kanglung-la,  was  very  tiresome,  the  ground  consist- 
ing of  wet  alluvium,  wherein  the  horses  sank  so  deep 
that  we  preferred  to  go  on  foot  and  splash  through  the 
mud.  We  were  now  on  the  heights  whence  the  water 
flows  down  to  three  of  the  northern  tributaries  of  the 
Brahmaputra;  the  third  flows  to  the  Chaktak-t.sangpo, 
which  runs  to  the  west  of  Saka-dzong.  Here  and  there 
the  snow,  owing  to  wind,  melting  and  freezing  again,  has 
assumed  the  form  of  upright  blades,  two  feet  high  and 
sharp  as  a  knife.  Far  to  the  south  appear  parts  of  the 
Himalayas,  and  we  are  here  in  a  grand  landscape  of  wild 
and  fantasac  relief.  Now  and  then  the  view  is  obscured  by 
dense  showers  of  hail. 

On  the  morning  of  the  24th  all  the  country  was 
hidden  by  thickly  falling  snow,  and  the  weather  at  the 
end  of  May  was  more  winterly  than  on  the  Chang-tang 
in  December.  We  ride  between  steep  cliffs  down  a 
deeply  eroded  valley,  and  side  valleys  run  in  with  narrow 
deep  openings.  In  one  of  them  is  a  frozen  waterfall.  We 
often  cross  the  clear  water  of  the  river  which  rushes  along 
on  its  way  to  Saka-dzong  and  the  Chaktak-tsangpo. 
Violent  gusts  of  snow  sweep  through  the  valley  from  time 
to  time,  and  then  we  can  hardly  see  our  hands  and  the 
ground,  and  the  mountains  become  white.  In  the  Ix-autiful 
junction  of  valleys  called  Pangsetak  our  tents  and  those  of 
tilt  Tibetans  were  heavily  wciglited  with  snow'. 


.  »X;.     )r.-.      ; 


■^pi,^:^,;^y^^ 


46 


rRANS-HlMALAVA 


CHAP. 


I'i 


On  the  25lh  we  Ro  down  further.  Xomad  tents  arc  as 
rare  as  on  the  ])re(e(hng  (lays,  for  people  come  here  only 
in  summer.  The  jtath  runs  frecjuintly  up  alon^  the  left 
terrace,  hij^h  alcove  the  valley  l)otlorn.  where  the  river  has 
formed  two  larj^e  basins  of  dark  <ireen  water.  We  amused 
ourselves  with  rollin-^  stones  down  the  steep  sloix.^;  they 
kmxked  against  other  Ujulders,  dashed  with  a  thundering,' 
noise  into  the  valley,  tearing  u\)  sand  and  dust,  l)ounced 
up  from  the  ground',  and  finally  jilunged  into  the  basin, 
raising  a  cloud  of  spray.  It  was  childish  but  very  diverting. 
The  valley  passes  into  a  ])lain,  in  the  southern  part  of 
which  runs  the  great  high-roail  Ijctween  Raga-tasam  and 
Saka-clzong.  The  river  we  iiail  lollowed  down  is  the 
Kanglung-bui)chu,  but  in  Saka  it  is  called  Sachu-tsang])o. 
We  jMtched  our  camp  in  the  mouth  of  the  valley  Basang 
on  the  north  side  of  the  plain. 

From  here  to  Saka-dzong  is  a  short  day's  journey. 
But,  instead  of  travelling  along  this  road  which  Ryder  has 
already  laid  down  on  his  majj,  I  wished  to  see  the  jjlace 
where  the  Chaktak-tSiingpcj  unites  with  the  upper 
Brahmaputra.  That  would  involve  a  long  detour  of  four 
days'  journey,  and  to  this  our  friends  from  Raga  would 
not  consent  witliout  the  permission  of  the  Governor  of 
Saka.  We  therefore  stayed  a  day  in  the  Basang  valley, 
while  a  messenger  was  sent  to  him.  When  the  answer 
came  it  was,  to  our  surprise,  in  the  afl'irmative,  but  under 
the  condition  that  the  main  i)art  of  the  caravan  should 
proceed  straight  to  Saka-dzong.  I  even  received  a  local  pass- 
port for  the  excursion. 

Among  other  natives  who  at  this  time  sat  for  mc  as 
mcxlels  was  a  youth  of  twenty  years,  named  Ugyu.  wlio 
had  lived  some  years  before  with  his  mother  and  sisters  in 
a  valley  to  the  north,  where  their  tent  was  attacked  and 
pillaged  bv  robbers.  They  had  defended  themselves 
bravely  with  sabres  and  knives,  but  the  robber  band  had 
had  firearms,  and  Ugyu  had  been  struck  by  a  bullet, 
which  had  passed  through  his  shoulder-blade  and  lung, 
ami  had  come  out  at  his  breast.  Large  scars  showed  the 
course  of  the  bullet.  When  one  rememlx-rs  that  the 
leaden    bullets   of   the    Tibetans  are    as    large   as   hazel-nuts, 


I 


! 


(^IIAKTAH-TSAXGFO    ( )l  TLi:  T 


■\: 


one  is  astonished  that  tht-  l)oy  did  not  die  of  internal 
lia'morrha^^e.  He  appeared,  on  the  contiary.  i^xtraor- 
(h'narily  heahhy  and  l;Ioomin;,'.  and  had  an  amiable,  sym- 
j)athetic  disi)o>ition. 

I  sat  on  a  barley  sack  Ixfore  Muhamerl  Isa's  tent  and 
sketched.  Meanwhile,  the  baggage  and  provisions  wito 
made  ready  for  the  excursion.  My  excellent  caravan 
leadir  stood,  tall  and  .straight  as  a  pole,  watching  the 
others  filling  the  sacks  wc  were  to  take  with  us.  He  had 
the  Ixxil  al>o  and  everything  we  wanted  for  rivir  mea>ure- 
ments  packed  up.  In  the  evening  he  arranged  a  farewell 
ball  for  Tsering,  Shukkur  .Mi.  Rabsang,  l>lam  .\hun.  and 
I^he,  who  were  to  acr()m|)any  RoUrt  ;ind  me  to  the 
Tsangpo.  He  had  bought  in  Shigatse  a  large  fme  guitar, 
on  which  he  played  himself  in  his  tent.  This  evening  the 
dancing  and  singing  went  olT  more  gaily  and  menily  than 
ever.  We  expected  goaJ  news  from  Lhasa,  and  were  glad 
that  the  people  in  Saka  hail  granted  the  permi.ssion  1  had 
asked  for. 

On  the  morning  of  May  27  the  weather  was  really  fine- 
after  a  minimum  of  only  23°;  had  the  spring  come  at  last? 
The  main  caravan  had  already  gone  olT  westwards  to  Saka, 
and  my  j)arty  was  ready  when  Muhamed  Isa  came  to  say 
farewell.  He  was  ordered  to  remain  in  Saka  till  I  rt'- 
turned.  ami  to  try  by  all  means  to  gain  the  confidence 
of  the  official.s  by  friendliness  and  f)rudent  conduct.  My 
small  caravan  was  on  the  road  to  the  south,  and  we  stood 
alone  on_  the  deserted  camping-ground.  After  he  had 
received  his  instructions  we  mounted  into  our  saddles  at 
the  same  time  and  I  rode  after  my  men.  I  turned  once 
more  in  the  saddle  and  saw  Muhamed  Isa's  statelv  form 
upright  on  his  grey  horse,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  green 
velvet  cap  on  his  head,  and  the  black  sheepskin  loose  on 
his  shoulder,  trotting  quickly  in  the  track  of  the  caravan. 
It  was  the  last  time  I  saw  him  thus. 

Soon  we  cross  the  great  high-road,  the  lasam,  and  ride 
slowly  up  to  the  pass  Gyebuk-la  (15-846  feet),  marked  by  four 
nnniis,  which  are  covered  with  green  tlags  of  schist  with  incised 
Buddha    images.     Th 


XK't '!  I  _  w(  irr*      t  ^;i  f  H 


K^j-l  ♦l-\t-(-.,.         /irt  ••»  «><i  *«  .1 


of  yaks,  which  arc  just  coinin.ti;  over  the  pass  on  the   way  to 


'.'jf-.-vx;,  I V;,.  'fvT.  .>- 


48 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


LH  \P. 


l!    1 


Saka  (Izon^,  show  us  that  this  is  an  important  trade  route. 
Two  of  the  caravans  came  from  the  j^reat  town  Tsongka- 
dzon-,'  whicli  lier,  five  (lay>'  journey  M)Uthwar(l>,  not  far 
from"lhe  frontier  of  Xepaf.  From  Saka  the  caravans  1^0 
over  the  Gvehuk-hi,  cross  the  lirahmai)Utni,  ascend  the 
Samderling  vailev,  and  l)y  the  Sukpu  la  and  iNe,t,'U  hi 
passes  reach  'IVon^ka-dz-onj,',  which  supjilies  the  nomatls 
living  in  the  nortli  with  barley.  From  (lyelaik  la  there  is 
a  grand  view  over  the  sharj)  ])eaks  and  the  glacier  tongues 
of  the  Chomo  uchong.  On  the  x.uthern  >lopes  of  the  pass 
there  are  pawa  bushes  almost  everywhere,  and  it  is  pleasant 
to  see  their  fre^h  green  needles  again. 

The  road  run;,  down  the  KytTkye  valley.  On  a 
smooth  wail  of  rock  "Om  mani  padmehum"  is  hewn  in 
characters  a  vard  high.  At  camp  Xo.  167  the  Tibetans  of 
the  neight)()urhood  came  kindly  to  meet  me  and  l)id  me 
welcome,  and  two  of  them  led'  my  horse  by  the  bridle  to 
my  tent,  as  is  the  custom  in  this  country. 

Ne.xt  day  we  march  down  the  valley  with  fresh  guides, 
and  see  several  ruins  telling  of  hai)i)ier  times  now 
gone  by.  Terraced  structures  for  irrigating  the  fields 
indicate'  that  barley  is  grown  in  the  district.  In  front  of 
us  is  now  the  bnnid  valley  of  the  Bralimaputra,  and  we 
come  to  an  arm  of  the  river  where  a  ferry  is  established  to 
transport  caravans  and  goods  on  the  way  bi'tween  Tsongka- 
dzong   and   Saka-dzong   from   one   side   of   the   river   to   the 

other.  . 

Camp  Xo.  168  was  pitched  at  the  extremity  of  the 
tongue  of  gravel  between  the  two  rivers.  The  Chaktak- 
tsangpo  had  here  a  breadth  of  02.2  feet,  a  ma.ximuni  depth 
of  2.4  feet,  an  average  velocity  of  4.56  feet,  and  a  discharge 
of  664  cubic  feet  per  second.  Its  water  was  almost  Cjuite 
clear,  and  in  conseciuence  of  its  greater  velocity  forced  its 
way  far  into  the  muddy  water  of  the  Brahmaputra.  The 
latter  had  at  mid-day' a  temjjerature  of  48.9°,  while  the 
water  of  the  tributary  was  a  little  warmer,  namely,  49-8°- 
Our  companions  told'  us  that  all  who  come  to  the  great 
river  drink  of  the  water,  because  it  comes  from  the  holy 
mountain  Kailas,  or  Rang  rinpovhv,  in  tlic  far  wtst. 

Shukkur   Ali   sat    with    his   ground    line   at   a   deep   bay 


XWVIII 


CIIAKTAK  'rSAXGI'O   OL  TLET 


49 


with  >li)\v  nldics  and  pulkd  out  of  tlu-  water  ten  firu'  fish, 
a  species  of  >!K'at  with  four  >oft  IxirNs.  Hr  had  raw  meat 
as  bait  on  his  I'lVf  hooks;  at  one  end  of  the  line  a  stone 
was  tied,  so  that  it  eoiild  Ix.-  thrown  far  out  into  deep  water, 
and  the  other  end  was  made  fast  to  a  pe^'  <iriven  in  to  the 
hank,  and  a  >tone  was  hiid  on  the  line  so  lightly  in  the 
fork  of  the  pei,'  that  it  fell  when  a  fi-h  bit.  The  fisherman 
ean  then  occujiv  himself  meanwhile  with  some  manual  work, 
such  a>  mending  shoes.  lie  puts  his  lish  in  a  small  en- 
closed  ba>in.     The  fl^h   had   white  flesh,  and   were  delicate. 

On  Mav  2Q  we  nuasured  the  main  river  at  a  place 
where  a  low  i>land  diviijes  it  into  two  channels  175.5  *'"*' 
iSo.4  feet  broad  ri>pe(  lively,  with  a  maximum  depth  of 
3.S  feet.  Here  the  Brahmaputra  carries  23,52  cubic  fiet  of 
water,  and  3196  after  receivinj^  the  Chaktak-tsangpo.  At 
the  confluence  of  the  Dok  chu  we  had  found  only  2966 
cubi(  feet,  but  the  measurement  was  made  a  month  and  a 
half  earlier.  The  ratio  of  the  Hrahmaputra  to  the  Dok- 
clui  was  5:2,  and  of  the  Hrahmaputra  to  the  Chaktak- 
tsangpo  7:2.  'I'he  Dok-chu  is  therefore  considerably 
larj^er  than  the  Chaktak-tsan^'po. 

On  May  30  we  followed  the  broad  valley  of  the 
Chaktak-tsangpo  towards  the  north-west  and  west-north- 
west till  we  came  to  a  district  named  Takbur,  whence  we 
intended  to  ride  next  day  over  the  Takbur-la  to  Saka- 
dzong.  Hut  it  did  not  come  otT,  for  before  I  was 
awakened,  came  a  chief  with  five  attendants  and  made  a 
horrible  disturijance  with  my  men  and  our  Tibetans  from 
Kyerkye.  The  latter  he  Ix'at  with  the  flat  of  his  sword, 
and  he  took  away  from  the  former  the  milk  and  butter  they 
had  bouf^ht  the  evening  before,  saying  that  no  one  had 
permission  to  sell  us  pnjvisions.  He  told  Rolx-rt  that  he 
had  orders  not  to  let  us  pass  through  to  Saka-dzong,  and 
that  he  woukl  make  us  stay  here  three  months.  We 
might  not  hire  yaks  also  —  which  was  very  inconvenient,  as 
we  had  only  a  horse  and  a  mule  after  all  the  hired  animals 
had  gone.  We  might  not  buy  provisions,  but  this  was 
not  of  much  conse(|Uence,  for  Robert  had  shot  four  wild- 
gee>e  and  found  a  large  (juantity  of  eggs,  and  the  river 
was  full  of  fish. 

VOL.   II  E 


.so 


TRANS  HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


I  accord inj^'ly  sent  Kl:ini  .\luin  and  F^lic  to  Saka  with  a 
nu'^sa^'c  that  Mulianicil  l-^a  --hoiilil  Mtid  us  I'lVi'  horses 
imnndialclv.  'I'hiti  I  Niuiiinoiud  the  su|)crcili()U>  ( hicf  to 
inv  tint,  where  he  confirnud  the  account^  of  my  nitn. 
IK-  (III  land  that  I  liad  no  ri^ht  to  deviate  a  single  step 
from  the  ^reat  hiiih  road,  and  that  thi-  (ii>tri(t  in  whicli  we 
were  was  under  him,  not  under  Saka  d/onji,  and  tlierefore 
the  local  |)a^^|)<lrt  was  worthless.  He  intended  to  carry 
out  the  orders  he  had  nctived,  as  he  valued  hi^  head. 
When  I  told  him  that  I  should  report  his  uncivil  Ixhaviour 
to  the  Mandarins  in  Lha>a,  he  jumped  up  and  drew  his 
sword  threateninj^dy,  hut  when  he  saw  that  my  composure 
could  not  l)e  siiaken  he  quieted  down.  In  the  evening  he 
came  to  till  us  that  we  mij^'ht  cross  the  'rakbur-la,  and 
brnuf^ht  us  both  yaks  and  provisions.  Who  he  was  we 
could  never  discover,  for  in  Saka  no  one  would  acknow- 
ledge that  he  knew  him.  Perhaps  it  was  only  a  childish 
attempt  to  cure  me  of  further  deviations  from  the  main 
road.  Ho'-ever.  it  was  a  jnty  that  we  had  lost  a  day 
here.  When  the  morning  of  June  i  dawned,  Islam  Ahun 
and  Ishe  came  with  our  horses,  which  we  did  not  now 
need,  and  brought  me  greetings  from  Muhamed  Tsa,  who 
sent  word  that  all  was  well  with  the  caravan;  they  were 
on  friendiv  terms  with  the  authorities,  and  were  permitted 
to  buy  all  they  required. 

We  set  olt  again  northwards  and  marched  through  the 
Takbur  valley,  where  there  was  abundance  of  game,  hares, 
pheasants,  and  i)artridges  —  some  of  which  Tsering  shot, 
and  foxes,  marmots,  and  field-mice.  In  the  distance  we 
saw  a  grey  prowling  animal  which  we  took  for  a  lynx. 
There  were  also  kiangs,  which  seemed  very  unconcerned. 
North-west,  north,  and  north-east  huge  snowy  mountains 
were  seen  from  the  Takbur-la  (16.621  feet),  of  which  Ryder 
and  Wood  had  taken  lx?arings.  Like  those  Englishmen,  I  con- 
sidered it  certain  that  these  peaks  lay  on  the  watershed  of  the 
Tsangpo,  and  belonged  to  the  crest  of  the  Trans-Himalaya. 
I  had  afterwards  an  opjiortunity  of  proving  that  this  was  a 
mistake.  From  the  pass  a  river  runs  down  to  join  the  Sachu- 
tsangpo.  Here  we  saw  a  numlxr  of  yaks  in  the  luxu- 
riant grass,  and  a  nearly  tame  kulan  kept  them  company. 


^r:^!j^^-mf^i:(j^:^jl:^-a^'-^ 


L   ^ 


I  Mi 


IM 


XWMII 


(llAKIAK-ISANCJl'o    ol  ILKI 


-I 


W'luri'  tilt'  livrr  cnicf  •  into  flir  S;ik,i  pl.tiii,  wc 
|i;i->ii|  on  il>  lift  -iili  i.\ii  .i  l.i>t  >rii.ill  -pur  "I  ifu- 
muiint.iiii  on  which  the  jia-^^  i>  sjiuiitid,  ;ini|  luri-  I  rrstnl 
for  an  hour  with  KolKrI.  to  draw  a  p.iiiorama  of  the 
inlt  rcNtitiu  (ouiitry.  'l-iriii^'  inarilml  on  with  lli■^  nun, 
aivl  (|i-a|)|i(att<l  a-«  a  sjR.kon  thr  ;,'riat  plain.  'I'o  the  la^t 
north  ta-<l  the  white  liou^es  of  S;  ka  <l/onj,'  (ouM  \k-  mth 
in  the  di^t.uKe.  and  with  the  yM^--  ue  cnuld  make  out  the 
lami),  two  lilaik  tents  and  a  whiti',  the  latter  Muhanied 
J>a's. 

'I"hen  We,  t(M),  |)asse(l  a( Toss  the  plain.  (  )n  tlu'  li'ft 
stood  four  tents,  where  the  sheep  were  heini,'  driven  into 
the  {"old  for  the  ni^ht.  At  oiu-  plaie  the  road  divides; 
travellers  who  have  nothing;  to  do  in  Sakadzonj.;  take  the 
southern  road.  We  ( ross  the  Sa  i  hu  river  and  thi'  over- 
flow of  a  spring;  there  is  a  stronj,'  wind  from  the  west,  and 
we  lon^  for  the  tents,  and  the  warmth  of  the  i amp  tires. 
At  last  we  are  there.  (lulTaru  comes  to  ^'reet  us,  and  all 
the  others  call  out  to  Us  "Salaam"  and  "Ju."  I  l(K)k  in 
vain  for  Muhanied  Isa's  stalwart  fif,'ure,  and  inf|uire  for 
him.  "He  is  lyin<;  in  Ud  and  has  Ixen  ill  all  day,"  they 
answer.  I  supjxjse  that  he  has  his  usual  headache  again, 
go  to  the  brazier  in  my  tent,  and  let  RoUrt,  as  usual, 
unjjack  the  things  I  recjuirt'  for  my  evening  work.  We 
were  tired   and  chilled   through   and   hjnged   for  our  S)Upper. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 


Iri 


MUHAMED   ISA's   DEATH 

We  had  not  been  sitting,'  long  when  Rabsang  came  to  say 
that  Muhamed  Isii  had  lost  consciousness,  and  did  not  an- 
swer wlien  he  was  si)oken  to.  I  now  perceived  that  he  had 
had  an  apoplectic  fit,  and  hurrietl  olT  with  Robert  tr  his  tent, 
which  stotxl  close  Ix'side  mine.  An  oil  lamp  was  burmng 
beside  the  iiead  of  his  bed,  where  his  brotlier  IVering  sat 
weeping.  The  sick  man  lay  on  his  back,  tall,  strong,  and 
straight.  The  mouth  was  a  little  drawn  on  the  left  side, 
and  the  pupil  of  the  left  eye  seemed  very  small,  -hile  that 
of  the  right  eve  was  normal.  The  pulse  was  regular  and 
strong,  beating  72.  I  at  once  ordered  hot  Ixjttles  to  be 
laid  at  his  feet  and  a  bag  of  ice  on  his  head.  His  clothes 
were  loosened;  he  breathed  deeply  and  regularly.  I  he 
eyes  were  half  open,  but  were  lustreless.  I  called  his 
name  loudlv,  but  he  gave  little  sign;  he  tried  to  turn  his 
head  and  move  his  right  arm,  uttered  a  low  groan,  and 
then  remained  still  again.  Robert  was  shocked  when  I 
told   him   that   Muhamed   Isa   would   not   see    the   sun   rise 

again.  ,     ,    t    •        •     1    u 

While  we  were  sitting  beside  his  bed  I  inquired  the 
circumstances  from  Rehim  Ali  and  Guffaru.  who  had  Ix-en 
with  him  all  dav  long.  During  the  four  days  they  had 
waiteil  for  us  here  he  had  Ix'en  quite  well,  and  had  never 
complained  of  headache.  He  had  tried,  in  accordance 
with  the  last  instructions  I  had  given  him  at  the  camp  in 
the  Basang  vallev,  to  win  the  friendship  and  confidence 
of  the  :!'.!t'.orities.  The  dav  before  he  had  been  still  in 
excellent    spirits,    had    drunk    tea    with    his    most    intimate 

52 


CHAP.  XXXIX 


MUIIAMED    ISA'S   DEATH 


53 


friends  in  the  caravan,  and  hacl  sung  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  guitar. 

On  this  day,  June  i,  he  had  got  up  with  the  sun,  drunk 
tea,  and  had  had  a  stormy  interview  with  two  Tibetans 
from  the  dzong.  They  had  refused  to  supply  the  caravan 
with  ])r()visions,  and  then  insisted  that  the  caravan  should 
leave  the  i)Iace  at  once.  He  had  answered  that  the 
Sahib  would  soon  Ix-  back,  and  that  it  would  go  baflly 
with  them  if  they  did  not  olx'y  him.  They  had  gone 
away  in  anger,  and  then  Muhamed  Isa  had  breakfaste-d 
alx)ut  ten  o'clfK.k,  and  hari  slept  an  hour.  When  he  rose, 
he  had  complained  of  headache. 

When  the  sun  had  reached  its  noonday  height  he  had 
gone  to  look  out  for  us.  and  had  then  had  a  violent  attack 
of  sickness,  fallen  on  his  left  side  and  lain  senseless. 
The  other  men  hurried  up,  carried  him  to  his  tent,  and 
massaged  his  body.  Jle  was  restored  thereby  to  con- 
sciousness, and  spoke  much  but  indistinctly,  and  chiefly 
with  the  god  of  Islam : 

"I  was  a  Lamaist  but  went  over  to  Islam;  help  me 
now,  O  Ahah,  out  of  this  severe  illness;  let  me  recover; 
forgive  me  my  sins  and  all  the  wrong  I  have  done  to 
others;  let  me  live,  C)  Allah,  and  I  will  always  keep 
thy   commandments   and    will   never   omit    my  prayers." 

Then  he  had  admonished  the  others  to  do  their  duty 
as  heretofore,  and  thanked  them  that  they  had  so  patiently 
assisted  him  in  his  misfortune.  Now  and  then  he  had 
asked  for  cold  water.  He  had  felt  his  left  arm  with  his 
right  hand,  and  asked  whose  arm  it  was,  and  had  also  said 
that  he  did  not  feel  the  shoe  on  his  left  foot.  The  whole 
left  side  was  quite  paralyzed.  Sitting  upright,  and  sup- 
ported by  cushions,  he  had  made  the  following  request  to 
GutTaru:  "Thou,  who  art  old,  and  keepest  the  command- 
ments of  religion,  wilt  not  pollute  thy  hands  if  thou  takest 
a  knife  and  cuttest  my  neck ;  cut  deep  down  to  the  spine, 
for  ihat  will  relieve  my  infernal  headache."  In  his  fearful 
sutTering  he  struck  his  right  hand  against  a  lx)X.  Alx)ut 
an   hour  later  another   stroke  deprived   him  of  speech,   and 

>.ft,,i-     fli.t     U..     U..,l      1,.     r>-„.I.,     „      _."    _      -,-■•!-      L-        ,;     !  (      '  ! 

duM      l::ai     in.      n.i-.:     •,;:;i;,      Huiuv     .1     Mgii      Aiiii     JUS     ilgiil     Uanfl, 

as  though  in  despair  at  the  approach  of  death.      Towards 


WWW. 


I'^wm^if^Mm 


i 


^M 


54 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


four  o'clock  Tscring  had  come  and  thrown  himself  ovcr 
him  \vcci)ing  loudlv.  Muhamcd  Isa  had  also  wept,  and 
pointed  to  his  lips' to  intim:ite  that  he  could  not  speak. 
When  wc  entered  his  tent  about  five  o'clock  his  conscious- 
ness was  almost  gone.  He  remained  in  the  same  condition 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  breathing  quietly,  with  his  mouth 
closed.      I    went   therefore   to   my  dinner,   which   Adul   had 

'"^^RoUTt'^'and     I     studied     Burroughs    and      Wellcome's 
medical   handbook,   to  see  that  nothing  had   been  omitted. 
About    eight    o'clock    we    returne<l    to    the    sick-bed.     Mu- 
hamed  Isa  was  now  breathing  with  his  mouth  open  -  a  bad 
sign,   showing   that   the   muscles  of   the   jaws  were  relaxed; 
the   pulse   beat    108,   and   was  very   weak.     The  despair  of 
old    Tsering    when    I    told    him    all    hope    was    gone,    was 
heart-rending.     Half    an    hour    later   the    braithing   became 
slower  and  weaker,  and  about  nine  o'clock  the  ^Icath-rattle 
commenced,   and   the   struggle  of  the  muscles  o     the  chest 
to    supply    the    lungs    with    sufiicient    air.     Atout    every 
fortieth    respiration    was    deep,     and     then     there     was     a 
pause    before    the    next    came.      They    were    f^Ho^ved    by 
moans.     His   feet    grew   cold    in    sf.ite   of    the    hot   littles, 
which    were    freciuently    changed.     At    a    fiuarter-past    nine 
the  breathing  became  still   slower  and  the  intervals  longer. 
A   death    spasm   shook    his    body    and    slightly    raised    his 
shouklers;    it   was   followed   by   another.  ,u  ,     h. 

The     Mohammedans    whispered     to    Tsering    that     he 
should   leave   his   place   at   the   head,   for   a    ^Jf  ^"J";^  l'" 
must    hold    the   lower   jaw   and   close   the   mouth   after   the 
last    breath.     But    the    sorrowing    brother    could    on  y    Dc 
brought    to   leave    his   place   by    force.      A   third    and    las 
spasm    shook    the    <lying    man,    pr.Kluced    bv    the    cold    of 
death.     After  a  <leep    respiration  he  lay  still  Or  20  seconds^ 
We  thought  that  life  ha<l  flown,  but  he  breathe,    again,  and 
after  another  minute  came  the  last  feeble  breath,  and  then 
old   (kitTaru  l)Ound  a  cloth  under  the  cmn  and  covered  the 
lace  with  a  white  kerchief.     Then  all  was  still,  and    deep  y 
..nvorl    1  bared  mv  hea<l  before  the  awful  majest>  of  Dcath^ 

Horrified     and'   .lisma;  '.l.     the     Mohammedans    poured 

into   the   tent,   and   the   Lamaists  after  them,   and   I   heard 


ist 


>ly 


-ed 
ird 


_-l^^ft; 


'AiMi^'J^^-M- 


XXXIX 


MUHAMED   ISA'S   DEATH 


55 


them  from  time  to  time  call  out  in  low  tones,  "La  illaha 
il  Allah:"  Tsering  was  beside  himself:  he  knelt  by  the 
(lead,  beat  his  forehead  with  his  hands,  svcpt  aloud,  nay. 
howled  and  bellowed,  while  large  tears  rolled  down  his 
furrowed  sunburnt  face.  I  patted  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  Ix-gged  him  to  try  and  compose  himself,  go  into  his 
tent,  drink  tea.  and  lie  down  and  rest.  Hut  he  neither 
heard  nor  saw,  and  the  others  had  to  carry  him  to  his  tent, 
and  T  heard  him  wailing  in  the  night  as  long  as  I  lay  awake. 
Ye.'-  '.eath  is  an  awful  guc.^^t.  We  could  hardly  realize 
that  he  had   so  suddenly  entered  our  peaceful  camp. 

I  had  a  long  conversation  with  RolxTt  in  my  tent,  and 
old  CkitTaru  was  sent  for  to  receive  my  orders  for  the 
funeral.  The  Mohammedans  were  to  watch  in  turn 
lx>side  the  Ixxly  through  the  night.  Early  next  morning 
the  i)ermission  '  of  the  authorities  would  be  obtained  for 
the  choice  of  a  burying-place,  and  then  the  interment 
would  take  j)lace. 

At  midnight  I  paid  a  last  visit  to  my  excellent,  faithful 
caravan  leader,  who  had  fallen  at  his  po.st  in  the  prime  of 
life.  He  lay  long  and  straight,  swathed  in  a  shroud  and  a 
frieze  rug,  in  the  middle  of  his  tent.  At  his  head  burned 
his  oil  lamp,  slightly  flickering  in  the  draught.  The  dead 
watch  of  five  men  sat  mute  and  motionless,  but  rose  when 
I  entered.  We  uncovered  his  face;  it  was  calm  and 
dignified,  and  a  slight  smile  played  round  the  lips;  the 
colour  was  pale,  but  slightly  bronzed  from  the  effect  of 
wind  and  sun  (Illustration  217).  Arched  over  him  was 
the  half-dark  bell  of  the  tent  —  the  tent  which  had  fluttered 
in  all  the  winds  of  heaven  on  the  way  through  the  Chang- 
tang,  and  from  which  Muhamed  Isa  s  merry  jests  had 
s<^)  often  been  heard  in  (\uk\  cold  Tilx^tan  nights  amid.st 
the  sound  of  flutes  and  guitars.  Xow  depressing  silence 
reigned  around;  only  the  stars  s))arkled  with  electric 
brilliancy. 

How  empty  and  dreary  everything  -eemed  when  I 
woke  on  Sunday,  June  2,  the  day  of  Muhamed  Isa's 
funeral!      I    went    out    and    looked    at    the    grave;    it    lay 

.1      ..*        -_-       -...—.I.      *—       *l» .,,»l-.   .i..^.^.  *■      -,f      fK^.       ".•  ».v^ » .  '  PK. » 

;ii;t;ul      .S^'-J       tillOD      lU      lUU      :50Ui;!-v.  v..-;i      VI       Ul\.       -..^iiiip.  1  ;:!- 

Mohammedans    had    been    early    in    the    village    to    Ix^rrow 


Slf^l 


56 


IRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


a  door,  and  had  washed  the  b)dy  on  it.  Then  they  had 
\vrai)i>e(l  it  in  (iuffaru's  shroud,  which  was  of  thin  Hnen, 
hut  <iuitc  white  and  clean.  Muhamed  Isii  and  I  had  often 
hiuf,'hc(l  together  over  the  old  man's  singular  fancy  of 
taking  this  death  garment  on  the  journey.  Over  the 
shroud  (kaj(Ui)  they  had  wrapped  a  grey  frieze  rug.  The 
lj(Kly  lay  now  in  the  bright  sunshine  before  the  tent,  on  a 
bier'  consisting  of  the  bottom  of  the  two  halves  of  the  boat 
fastened  together,  and  provided  with  four  cross-poles  for 
the    bearers. 

When    all    was    ready    the    eight    Mohammedans    raised 
the   bier  on   to  their  shoulders,   and   carried   their  chieftain 
and     leader,    royally    tall,    straight    and     cold,    to    liis    last 
re.sting-place.     I   walked    immediately   behind   the   bier,   and 
then    came    Robert    and    some    Lamaists;     the    rest    were 
occupied  at  the  grave,  and  only  two  remained  in  the  camp, 
which    could   not   be  left    unguarded.     From   T.sering's   tent 
a   despairing   wailing  could    still    be   heard.     He   had    been 
persuaded  not  to   come  to  the  grave.     He   was   heart    and 
soul  a  Lamai.st,  and   now  he   was   troubled   at  the   thought 
that  he  would  never  .see  his  brother  again,  who  had  looked 
forward     to    the    paradise    of    the     Mohammedans.     Some 
Tibetans     .stood     at     a     distance.      Slowly,    solemnly,     and 
mournfully  the  proce.s.sion  set  itself  in  motion   (Illustration 
218).     Xo    ringing    of    bells,    no    strewn    fir    branches,    no 
chants   spoke   of   an   awakening   beyond   the   valley   of   the 
shadow    of    death.     But    above    us    the    turquoise-blue    sky 
stretched     its    vault,    and     around     us    the    lofty,    desolate 
mountains     held     watch.     In     deep     mournful     voice     the 
bearers    sang,    "La    illaha    il    Allah,"    in    time    with    their 
heavy    steps.     They    staggered    under    their    burden,    and 
had    to    change    it    frequently    to    the    other    shoulder,    for 
Muhamed    Isa   was   big,    corpulent,   and    heavy. 

At  length  we  ascended  a  gravel  terrace  between  two 
soui'xc  streams.  The  bier  was  placed  at  the  edge  of  the 
<Trave,  which  was  not  quite  ready  (Illustrations  219.  220, 
22O.'  It  was  deep,  lav  north  and  south,  and  had  a  cutting 
^.l  ,^j,-l^,.  -sn  the  left  side,  under  which  the  Ixxly  was  to  be 
laid',  so  that  the  earth  might  not  press  on  it  when  the 
grave   was   filled   in.    Four   men    stood   in   the   grave   and 


^|g.n- 


i^^^ 


I     I     V   I     V    \  I         I'l-I  l(     1    -.vll  (\^ 


mm4:^'_ 


:#V': 


ipBpa 


;  Ob. -i -.Sfei** 


xxvix 


MrilAMEI)    ISA'S    DEATH 


57 


m-i-ivc(l  the  IkhIv,  ami  i)lacf(l  it.  Nvrapiu"!  only  in  \hv 
white  shroud,  utiilcr  tlu-  anh.  arran.i^in.^  it  so  that  tlic 
fate  was  tunud  towards  Mirca.  wlurv  the  hopi-s  of  .ill 
true  hdii'viiig  j-ilj^^rims  an-  rcnlml. 

Scarcfly  was  all  set  in  order  when  a  painful  incident 
occurred,  an  evil  omen:  the  overhanj^inK  vault  of  loose, 
d.y  gravel  fell  in,  buryinj^  the  corpse  completely,  and 
j)arlly  coverinj;  the  four  men.  There  was  silence,  and 
the  men  looked  at  one  another  irresolute.  Shukkur  .Mi 
broke  the  ()pi)re.ssive  silence,  jumped  into  the  ^'r^ve,  out 
of  which  the  others  clambered,  di^Kt-'d  '>ut  the  body  aj^am, 
and  removed  the  gravel  from  the  shroud  as  well  as  he 
could.  A  wall  was  then  erected  of  s<k1s  cut  from  the  bank 
of  the  brook  .so  as  to  protect  the  Ixnly.  the  outer  space  was 
filled  in  with  sand  and  stones,  and  finally  a  mound  a  yard 
hi.^'h  was  thrown  up  over  the  grave,  two  st(jne  slabs  being 
placed    at    the    head    and    foot. 

When   all   was  done   the    Lamaists  went    home,    but    the 

Mohammedans    remained    at    the    grave    to     pray    for    the 

deceased,     sometimes     kneeling,     sometimes     standing     up 

with  their  i)alms  before  their  face.     Shukkur  AH,  who  had 

been  Muhamed    Isa's  <jld    friend  and   comrade  on    many  of 

his  journeys    in    A.sia.  l)roke  out   int<>  violent   weeping  and 

wailing,  but    the    others  mourned    more  ((uietly.     Finally,  I 

said  a  few  words  in  Turki.     During  all  my  journeys  I  had 

never  had  a  more  etlicient,  exj)erienced.  and  faithful  caravan 

leader;    he  had  maintained  discipline  in  the  caravan,^  been 

a  father  to  the  men,  and  taken  the  best  care  (jf  the  animals; 

he   had   been   an   excellent   interpreter,   and   had   treated   the 

natives  with   prudence   and   tact.     Hy   his   happy   humorous 

disposition  he  had  kept  all  the  others  in  gocxl  temper.     In 

ditVicult  situations  he  had  always  found  the  right  wav  out. 

In  unknown  country  he  had  climbed  j)asses  .ind  summits  to 

look  for  the  best  route  —  he  had  always  gone  him.self  and 

not   sent  others.     His  memory   would   always  be   cherished 

and   honoured  among  us,  and   he  had  also  earned   a  great 

name  in  the  exploration  of  Asia,  for  during  thirty  years  he 

had  served  many  other  Sahibs  as  faithfully  and  honestly  as 

my.seli. 

We  went  silently  home  after  our  day's  work. 


-^- -.aii?-'. 


58 


TKAXS-H I  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


In  llu  lc(ii(>ii:iry  of  thi^^  Sundiiy  fMdirrcd  the  HiMc  tixi, 
"Thou   fool,  tlii>  ni^ht  tliy  m»u1  s1i;iI1  lie  rc((iiirc(l  of  tlicc." 

Miiliaiiicd  Imi  liad  li-av(lli-(|  far.  and  was  highly 
rcspcc  ted  in  \>ia.  He  had  hern  in  Saka-dzonj^  Ijcfort-, 
in  tlic  year  igo),  as  Ka\vlinf,''s  and  Kydrr's  caravan  k-adrr. 
Ik-  iittlf  thiiii^'hl  then  tiial  he  would  rrlurn  once  more, 
and  here  set  up  his  tent  for  the  hisl  time  after  his  long 
wanderings.  In  Thr  (iroi^riip/iiatl  Journiil  of  April  1909, 
p.  422,   Rawling  refers  t(»  him  as  follows:  — 

Having  minlioned  Saka  D/.orif,'.  let  me  break  otT  one  moment 
to  pay  a  token  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  that  faithful  servant  of 
Sven  Fledin  who  (Hed  lure.  Mohamed  Isa  was  one  of  the  fmest 
character^  it  has  been  my  fortune  to  he  thrown  with.  Tru>t- 
worthy  and  indomitaljli-  in  his  work,  his  knowledge  of  .Asia  was 
uncijualled  by  any  native,  for  he  had  accompanied  Vounuhusband 
in  his  famous  journey  from  China,  he  was  witli  Carey,  with  Dal- 
glei>h  who  was  afterwards  murdered,  and  with  Dutreuil  de  Rhins, 
when  he  was  a  heljiless  witness  of  his  master's  violent  death  at  the 
hands  of  the  Tibetans.  He  acted  as  my  caravan  bashi  in  the  Gartok 
ex[ieilition,  acc(>m|)anie(l  Sven  Hedin  during  his  recent  Journey,  and 
died,  after  thirty  years  of  faithful  service,  at  this  desolate  sjKJt. 

From  letters  I  subsequently  received  from  Voung- 
husband,  O'Connor,  and  Ryder,  I  learned  that  they  also 
deeply  mourned  his  loss. 

The  grave  terrace  rose  close  to  the  great  high-road 
between  Ladak  and  Lhasa  on  its  northern  side.  The 
mound  was  next  day  covered  with  cut  sods  arranged  in 
steps,  and  a  .small  flagstone  was  set  in  the  ground  at  the 
head  of  the  grave,  whereon  ])assing  Mohammedans  could 
spread  out  a  carjK't  and  pray  fcjr  the  repose  of  the 
deceased.  On  a  slab  of  slate,  smoothed  down  with  a 
chisel,  I  .scratched  the  following  inscription  in  English 
and   in   Roman   letters: 


MUH.AMEO  IS.\ 

C.\R.A\A\  I.r.ADKR  CXDER 

C.\REY,   D.\I.('.I,KISH,  1)K  RHINS,  YOINGHUSBAND 

R.\WI.1.\G,  RVI)1:R  .\\\i  OTHERS 

DIED 

!\-  THK  ^FR'.irK  OF  syEN'  flEPlN 

AT  SAK.\-I)Z().\<;.  (JN  jrXE  I.  1907 

AT  THE  MW.  OF  5?  YEARS. 


JiMi^ 


'^j^-^LjiM^iaJk,.s:£tLi 


I « ) 


;n).  ;.'D,  ;ji.     1  iih    lsrhK\ih\i   ot   MiiiwiKU   Isa. 


^:sk^^k:^^^M^f^:^&]^^m 


XXXIX 


MUHAMKD    ISA'S    DKATII 


S9 


The  writinp  was  thin  rut  in  \hv  stone  hy  Islam  Ahun. 
The  name  was  aUo  t-nj^ravid  in  Arahir,  and  at  the  toj)  the 
furmiil.i.  "()ni  niani  i)a<lnu-  huni,"  in  Tilntan  t  haraitiTs, 
tliat  thf  iHupli'  of  thi'  (oiintry  niij^lit  remind  the  ^ravc. 
Fuluri-  travillrrs  will  tind  the  stone  in  it^  jilaic  if  the 
Tibetans    have    not    taken    it    away. 

In  the  afternoon  of  June  t,  I  sent  for  'I'M-rin^  to  my 
tent.  He  was  now  i.tlin  .md  resij^'iu-d.  lie  was  to  he 
my  cook  an<l  Inwly  servant  as  hefore,  hut  hi>  |)ay  would 
Ik'  raised  to  20  rupees  a  month,  and  this  rise  was  to 
date  l)a(k  to  our  de|>arturt'  from  l.eh.  He  was  allowed  to 
keej)  the  wateh  I  had  k'^'^""  '"  '^'^  hrother.  CiUlTaru.  tin- 
oldest  of  the  men,  was  Muhamed  Isa's  sucee.ssor  as 
(aravan  hashi,  received  the  same  increase  of  |)ay  as 
Tserin^,  and  was  allowed  to  Use  Muhamed  Isa's  fjrey 
horse  and  saddle.  In  future  he  would  live  with  two 
other  men   in   the   tent  of   the  deceased. 

As  I  foresaw  that  the  discipline  would  not  lx>  what 
it  was  in  Muhamed  Isa's  time,  I  spoke  seriously  to  the 
men,  tellinj,'  them  that  they  must  olny  GufTaru  as  blindly 
as  they  had  his  predecessor,  that  they  ought  to  hold 
toj^ether  as  before  and  continue  to  serve  me  faithfully. 
If  any  oiu  Inj^an  to  fjuarrel  and  was  disoU'dient,  he  would 
at  once  Ik-  handed  the  pay  due  to  him  and  be  sent  ofT  to 
go  where  he  liked.  \ow  that  we  travelled  with  hired  yaks 
I  could  very  well  spare  half  the  men,  and  therefore  it  was 
their  interest  to  conduct  themselves  so  that  they  might  l)e 
retained.  Rabsang  and  Xamgyal  answered  in  the  name 
of  all,  that  they  would  hold  together,  serve  me  faithfully, 
and  follow  mc  anywhere. 

Then  Rolxrt  was  commissioned  to  look  through  the 
property  of  the  deceased  in  the  presence  of  Tsering 
(}uffaru,  Shukkur  Ali,  Rehim  Ali,  and  the  Hajji,  and 
after  he  had  made  an  inventory,  to  pack  it  in  separate 
lx)xes,  which  were  ultimately  to  Ix.'  delivered  to  his  wife 
in  Leh,  together  with  his  outstanding  ])ay.  Among  his 
things  were  some  articles  of  value  which  he  had  bought 
in  Shigatse  —  carr  's,  tea-cups  with  metal  saucers  and 
(Dvers,  ornaments,  and  woven  materials.  He  had  left 
behind   only    10   rupees   in    ready    money,   a   proof   that    he 


,ft 


:VC.-:^'---.' 


'-'*  ~:^<.< -^y 


60 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


ii 


had    l)ecn    thoroughly    honest    in    his    management    of    the 
business  (A  the  caravan. 

After  all  relating  to  the  interment  had  been  carried 
out.  the  Mohammedans  came  to  ask  for  a  few  rupees  to 
enable  them  to  hold  a  memorial  feast  in  the  evening  in 
honour  of  the  deceased.  They  would  make  a  pudding, 
called  hiilv'i,  of  flour,  butter,  and  sugar,  drink  tea,  and  kill 
a  sheep.  The  heathen  also,  as  the  Mohammedans  called 
their  Lamaist  comrades,  were  to  be  present.  They  sang, 
aie,     :'nd     drank,     and    i)robably     hardly     thought     of   the 

(lej)arted. 

Two  gentlemen    from   the   dzong  had   Ixen  with   me  on 
June     2.     The     Governor     himself     was     absent,     travelling 
in  his  province  to   number  the  tents  under  his  administra- 
tion and    to   draw   uj)   a   list  of  all  the  inhabited  valleys  — 
all   bv   order   of   the   Chinese.     Pemba   Tsering.    the   second 
in   command,   was   very  agreeable   and    polite,   but   regretted 
that    he    could    not    supply    us   with    jirovisions   any    longer, 
as  he   must   be  prepared   to   furnish   necessaries  to  the   men 
who  were  constantlv  passing  to  and  fro  betVvcen  Gartok  and 
Lhasa.     To  confirm  his  words  he  called  up  the  tive  Govas 
or  district  inspectors  of  the  country,  who  declared  that  the 
])oor  countrv   could    not   su[){)ly   all   the   tsamha   and    barley 
we    retiuired.     I    intimated     to    them    that    we    should    still 
remain  a    few  days  awaiting  the  answer  from  Lhasa;    then 
they    rose,    protesting    that    I    might    stay    here    as    long    as 
I  liked,  but  that  they  woukl  not  jjrovide  me  with  provisions. 
On    the    same    day    a    large    white-and-blue    tent    was 
set   UJ)  by   our  camp, 'but   it   was  not   till   June   4  that   the 
occupants,  the  Govas  of    Tradum    and    Nyuku,    paid   me  a 
visit.     Thev   had    heard   of    our  long    stay,   and    wished    to 
find    out    tile   state    of   alTairs    for   themselves.     The   Nyuku 
Gova  began  the  conversation. 

"Saka  and  Tratlum  are  put  down  on  your  passport, 
l)ut  not  Xvuku.  Shouhl  you.  nevertheless,  go  thither, 
1  will  allow'  vou  to  stay  one  night,  but  not  longer,  for  it 
is  slated   in   the   ])assport   that   you   must  travel   straight  to 

"My  dear  friend."  I  replied,  "when  once  I  am  in  your 
place    we    shall    become    such    g(jod    friends    that    you    will 


XXXIX 


MUHAMED   ISA'S   DEATH 


6i 


ask  mc  to  stay  a  whole  month  to  consolidate  our  friend- 
ship. Should  you  afterwards  visit  me  in  India,  your 
visit  will  be  the  more  agreeable  the  longer  it  lasts." 

He  nodded  with  a  roguish  smile,  and  no  doubt  con- 
sidered me  a  wag.  but  added  that  he  must  obey  the 
orders    he    had    received    from    the    Devashung. 

"When  I  a"i  in  corresjjondence  with  the  Mandarins 
in  Lhasa,  and  am  waiting  for  their  answer,  the  Devashung 
has  no  right  to  interfere." 

"Very  well,  then  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  remain  here 
and  not  come  to  Tratlum  or  Nyuku;  provisions  are  sti'! 
scarcer  there." 

.•\fterwards  Pemba  Tsering  came  again,  bringing  two 
sacks  of  barley  and  a  sheep.  He  had  become  much  more 
comi)liant  since  he  had  talked  with  the  other  otTicials,  and 
promised  he  would  try  to  procure  what  we  needed.  We 
had  still  two  poor  horses  and  a  mule  from  Shigatse,  and 
he  was  to  have  one  of  the  animals  as  a  reward.  After 
some  consideration  h;  chose  the  mule.  The  two  horses 
we  sold   for  a  mere  tritle  to  a  stranger. 

Now  we  longed  to  get  away  from  this  miseraljle 
Sal:a-dzong  and  its  sad  associations.  Out  in  God's  open, 
glorious  Nature  the  winds  blow  away  sorrow.  We  daily 
calculated,  Robert  and  I,  how  long  it  would  be  before 
'runduj)  Sonam  and  Tashi  returned.  If  the  answer  were 
sent  by  the  so-calletl  Chinese  flying  p.;.t,  it  might  arrive 
any  moment.  But  the  days  passed  and  there  was  no 
news.  One  day  some  horsemen  rode  past  our  camp  on 
the  way  lo  the  west,  and  re[)orte(l  that  they  had  seen  my 
two  messengers  in  Kung  (}ushuk's  garden  in  Shigatse, 
but  they  knew  ncjthing  of  their  further  intentions. 
"Patience,"  whispered  the  west  wind  again.  In  the  maze 
of  difhculties  in  which  we  became  ever  m<jre  involved, 
my  hopes  rested  on  the  answer  of  the  Chinamen.  I  had 
toid  the  oflkials  here  that  I  would  set  oil  at  once  if  they 
would  allow  u-i  to  take  a  more  northern  route  to  Xyuku, 
but,    as    they   would    not    hear    of    it,   we    remained    where 


m 


we  were. 

When   I   looked   out  of  my  tent  mv 
to    the    dark   grave    on    its  hil 


It   seemed  as  if  the  urave 


.«l^tTE:ttt?feW- 


62 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


If  I 


luld  u.,  fast,  though  \vc  longed  to  get  away  from  it.  All 
was  dreary  and  dismal;  wc  miss(  1  Muhamed  Isa,  and  his 
absence  caused  a  great  blank,  but  life  gcjes  on  as  usual. 
When  the  sun  ri>cs,  the  women  of  the  village  stroll 
abcjut  collecting  dung  into  baskets,  while  the  men  drive 
the  yaks  and  horse  to  pasture.  They  sing  and  whistle, 
children  scream  and  dogs  hark.  Blue  smoke  rises  from 
the  chimneys  of  the  village  or  from  the  black  tents  stand- 
ing within'  walls  among  the  houses.  From  the  roof  of 
the  Saka-gomi)a  with  a  statue  of  Padma  Sambhava  the 
single  lama  of  the  monastery  blows  his  conch.  Ravens 
and  bluish  grey  pigeons  jjick  up  all  kinds  of  morsels 
among  the  tents,  and  the  wolves  which  have  come  down 
in  the  night  retire  again  to  the  mountains.  Riders  and 
caravans  pass  ..istwards  to  a  better  land,  where  poplars, 
willoNVs,  and  fruit  trees  are  clothed  in  their  fmest  summer 
dress.  But  we  arc  prisoners  in  this  desolate  country,  with 
Muhamed   Isa's  grave  as  a  focus. 

1  soon  perceived  what  a  depressing  elTect  the  loss  of 
the  big  i)owerful  caravan  leader  had  on  my  men:  they 
became  home-sick.  They  talked  of  the  warmth  of  their 
own  firesides,  and  they  took  to  crocheting  and  knotting 
shoes  for  their  children  and  acquaintances.  They  gathered 
round  the  evening  fire  and  talked  of  the  jjleasant  life  in 
the  villages  of  Ladak.  Robert  remarkt^d  how  dreary  and 
disagreeable  Tibet  was,  and  how  warm  and  delightful  it 
was  in  India;  he  was  pining  for  his  mother  and  his 
young  wife.  I  should  like  to  know  whether  any  one  was 
more  eager  to  be  (jff  than  myself,  who  had  so  much  before 
me  which  must  be  accomplished.  Yes,  I  saw  only  too 
plainly  that  I  could  not  achieve  all  I  was  striving  for  with 
mv  i)resent  caravan;  it  was  worn  out  and  used  up,  which 
wa>  reallv  not  to  be  wondered  at  after  all  it  had  gone 
through.  My  fate  was  driving  me  back  to  Ladak.  But 
I  must  endeavour  to  make  the  most  of  my  chances  on  the 
way.  And  then?  All  was  dark  to  me.  But  I  knew 
that  1  would  never  give  in,  and  would  not  leave  Tibet 
till  I  had  done  all  that  lay  in  my  power  to  conquer  the 
unknown  land  on  the  north  of  liie  upper  Brahmaputra. 

On   the    morning   of   the    5th    .ame   our   old    friend    the 


XXXIX 


MUIIAMED   ISA'S    DEATH 


63 


Gova  of  Raf,'a-tasam.  He  had  heard  that  we  were  in 
diiricnilties.  and  oftVmi  to  speak  a  go(«l  word  on  our  Ix'half 
to  IVmha  Tserinf^.  Afterwards  the  two  came  to  my  tent 
and  informed  me  that  I  might  take  the  northern  route 
to  Xvuku.  The  Gova  received  one  of  our  best  horses 
for  his  trouble.  Now  we  had  six  kft  of  our  own  horses, 
among  them  three  veterans  from  Leh,  two  i^her  horses, 
and  a  muk-.  Next  evening  (iutTaru  came  for  the  first 
time  to  receive  instructions,  and  on  June  7  we  set  out 
early. 

i  stopped  a  moment  at  the  grave.  It  was  striking  and 
imposing  in  all  its  simplicity.  In  its  dark  chamber  the 
weary  one  slumlx-rs  till  the  end  of  time.  He  listens  to 
the  howling  of  the  western  storms  and  the  wolves,  he 
freezes  in  the  cold  of  winter,  but  he  does  not  see  the 
summer  sun,  and  with  longing  for  the  well-remembered 
past  he  hears  the  horses  stamping  on  the  hard  pebbles. 
1  thought  of  the  Lama  Rinpoche  in  his  dark  den  at 
Linga. 

Farewell  and  grateful   thanks ! 


CHAPTER   XL 


ALONG    BYWAYS    TO   TRADUM 


The  day  was  }>rilli;tnt ;  it  was  not  spring,  it  was  summer. 
Flics,  wasps,  and  gadllics  buzzed  in  th<;  air,  and  worms  of 
all  kinds  crept  out  of  the  ground  to  enjoy  the  warm  season, 
all  too  short  here.  It  was  hot,  70.2°  at  one  o'clock.  The 
sun  seemed  to  Ix'  as  scorching  as  in  India.  The  Sa-chu 
valley     widens    out     westwards;      wikl-geese,     heroi  nd 

ducks  sit  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  choughs  c  .  on 
the  mountain  which  we  skirt  on  the  right  side  of  the 
valley.  The  fresh  grass  has  sprouted  out  of  the  earth  in 
its  green  summer  garl).  but  it  will  not  really  thrive  till 
after  the  warm  rains.  We  meet  a  caravan  of  200  yaks  in 
five  sections,  each  with  two  wliistling  drivers. 

"Whence  have  you  come?"    I  ask. 

"From  Tabie-tsaka,  where  we  have  been  to  fetch  salt." 

"Where  does  the  lake  lie?" 

"To  the  north,  in  Bongba,  thirty  davs'  journey  from 
here." 

"Does  the  road  cross  over  high  passes?" 

"Yes,  there  is  a  higli  pass  twelve  days  to  the  north." 

And  then  they  passctl  on  with  their  light-stepjiing 
yaks  towards  Saka  dzong.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had 
heard  this  important  lake  mentioned,  and  I  envied  the 
men  of  the  salt  caravan  who  had  traversed  this  way 
through  the    Trans-Himalaya  quite  unknown  to  Europeans. 

We  l<.ft  the  tasavi  on  our  left;  we  turned  asid<'  north- 
westwards straight  to  the  Targyaling-gompa  standing 
with  it-^  red  Ihakanv.,  its  small  white  buiklings.  and  its 
large    chhortcu    on    a    terrace     immediately    above    the    spot 

64 


z    0 


it^mmm^mm^mi.  ..m^-^m 


CHAP.    XL 


ALONG   BYWAYS  TO  TRADUM 


65 


where  GufTaru  has  pitched  the  camp.  Twenty  lamas  came 
down  to  find  out  whether  we  were  thieves  and  roblxrs 
who  intended  to  attack  the  convent.  "Certainly  not," 
GiilTaru  answered,  "we  are  peaceful  travellers  passing 
the  night  here."  "We  will  not  allow  it,"  they  replied; 
"you  must  remain  on  the  high-road."  T  now  sent  Rahsang 
up,  and  he  was  surrounded  at  the  gate  by  thirty  monks.  He 
was  told  the  same;  a  !:^uropean  had  never  been  here,  and 
none  should  e\er  enter  the  monastery.  If  the  gentlemen 
of  the  dzong  attempted  to  get  us  in,  they  should  pay  the 
penalty  with  their  lives.  Charming  ecclesuistics !  Even 
Kabsang,  who  was  a  Lamaist  and  wore  several  gaos  on  his 
neck,  was  not  allowed  in.  lie  was  in  the  service  of  a 
European.  So  inimically  disposal  were  these  monks  that 
they  stopped  up  the  channel  wc  drew  our  water  from. 
The  Devashung,  they  said,  had  nothing  to  do  with  them. 
We  had  heard  in  Saka-dzong  that  these  monks  v.ere 
kllicosc  and  independent;  there  they  had  said  that  the 
free-Ix)oter  who  had  stop[)ed  us  on  May  31  must  have 
ixen  a  disguised  monk.  But  we  could  do  without  them 
and  their  monastery,  which  seemed  small  and  unimportant. 

Here  our  four  pujjpies  fell  ill  of  a  peculiar  complaint: 
they  ran  alxjut  restlessly,  snuffed  and  sneezed,  had  matter 
in  their  eyes,  and  no  ajjpetitc.  At  night  I  heard  one  of 
my  tent  companions  whine  and  howl,  and  next  morning  he 
lay  dead  on  his  rug. 

Leaving  Rawling's  and  Ryder's  route  to  the  left,  wc 
proceeded  to  the  bank  of  the  Chaktak-tsangpo  and  then 
northwards  along  the  river.  It  has  a  swift  current,  but 
does  not  form  rapids;  to  the  south  is  seen  the  portal 
through  which  it  emerges  from  the  mountains.  At  the 
village  Pasa-guk,  which  is  larger  than  Saka-dzong,  wc 
bivouacked  on  the  right  bank.  The  river  here  was  141 
feet  broad,  2  feet  7  inches  deep  at  most,  and  carried  629 
cubic  feet  of  water.  On  May  28  it  carried  664  cubic  feet, 
but  it  receives  the  Sa  chu  and  other  tributaries  below  the 
village  Pasa-guk. 

In  the  middle  of  the  village  is  a  serai  with  a  large  store 
oi  sail  ii!  nags.  Here  a  market  i>  heid  fiuiii  lime  lo  lime, 
salt    Ixing    the    medium    of    exchange.     I    tried    to    obtain 

VOL.  II  f 


•} 


66 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CBAP. 


further  information  alKUit  the  country  in  the  north,  but 
when  F  comijarcd  the  (lirfcTcnt  (hita  to^'t-thiT,  the  result 
was  a  hopeless  muddle.  For  instance,  I  asked  travellers 
who  came  from  Talue-tsaka.  how  far  they  marched  each 
(lav,  and  where  they  passed  lakes,  rivers,  and  i)asses;  and 
when  I  added  the  distances  toother  and  laid  down  tiie 
direction  on  the  map,  the  line  reached  to  Ka>h',Mr,  all 
through  Tibet  and  Kastern  Turkestan  I  ft  was  impossit)le 
to  obtain  useful  data  about  the  country  to  the  north.  I  must 
see  it  with  mv  own  eyes.     Hut  how  would  that  be  possible? 

The  fbijji  came  to  me,  angry  and  excited,  to  complain 
thiit  (iuffaru  had  struck  him.  I  sat  in  judgment  and 
heard  evidence.  The  Hajji  had  refused  to  watch  the 
horses  when  his  turn  came,  and  the  caravan  Ixishi  had 
therefore  thrashed  him.  The  sentence  was,  that  the  Hajji 
should   receive  his  discharge  in  Xyuku. 

Robert  and  I  sat  on  the  velvety  grass  on  the  bank  and 
gazed  with  lf)nging  eyes  at  the  half-clear  water  (lancing 
merrilv  on  to  its  destination  at  the  coast.  An  old  man 
and  a  youth  joined  us.  and  entertained  us  with  dance  and 
song.  The  old  man  danced  and  stamped  on  the  ground 
in  a  three-cornered  mask  of  goat  leather  with  red  strips 
and  bells,  and  the  youth  sang  this  unintelligible  song: 


Hail,  O  God,  god  of  the  past! 

Many  stars  sparkle  in  ihf  night. 

To-day  is  a  tine  day. 

Wi>ul(l  that  rain  might  come! 

(live  me  a  bit  of  tea  or  a  small  coin. 

O,  Cook,  give  me  a  pinch  of  meal  and  a  radish. 

Such  is  the  mask  that  is  worn  in  the  Chang-tang. 

At  tile  right  ear  a  curl,  neither  l.irge  nor  small, 

At  the  left  a  pin,  neither  large  nor  small; 

Neither  shade  nor  sun. 

There  is  a  father's  pin  and  a  mother's  pin. 

Ever\'wliere  we  have  pins  with  branches, 

For  they  guard  us  from  all  dangers. 

The  horse  holds  his  head  high. 

And  t!ie  rider  holds  his  head  high. 

The  gods  are  high,  the  earth  is  low. 

You  have  gold  and  silver  galore. 

Mav  your  cattle  multiply,  your  fliKks  and  your  property  increase! 

M.iv  vo\ir  family  increase! 

The  King  of  I.ailak  sits  between  a  golden  and  a  silver  king. 

Now  is  the  song  ended. 


xt 


ALONG    BVWAVS   TO   TRADUM 


(^1 


On  Jiinr  tlir  lotli  I  left  tli.'  Cliaktak  (san^'po  to  thf 
ri^^hl,  untortuiiatcly  witliniit  liavinj,'  Icariit  wluria-  it 
(oims.  \\\-  amended  a  >i(!i-  valkv  naninl  Rock,  in  a 
north-wcstiTly  direction.  WV  lia.i  prcviouslv  passi-d  two 
to\VLr>  which  had  fornurly  Ixrn  the  fort  ()f  a  rcbflhous 
lama.  Ik-  was  at  tVud  with  Saka-d/,on<;,  l)Ut  was  dt-fiatc-d. 
In  the-  camp  at  the  po.  1  C'huru  the  evening  seemed  to 
me  fearfully  long.  Hor.e-sickness  had  Ixccmie  infectious. 
Ihe  J.adakis  san-,'  no  more,  liut  made  shoes  for  their 
children,  and  thereby  turned  their  thou<;hts  more  intently 
to  their  home.  I  too  found  no  rest  after  the  dav's  work. 
If  we  only  knew  what  answer  the  Mandarins  would  send, 
but  our  messenger  did  not  return.  We  seemed  to  have 
stumbled  into  a  morass  and  to  be  stamping  in  it  without 
moving  on.  Oh,  thou  drearv,  awful  I'ikl,  thou  ])laek, 
poor  superstitious  folk!  In  the  stillness  of  the  night  the 
step  of  the  camp  watchman  was  i)leasant  company. 

Alter  a  night  temperature  of  14.4°  we  nnle  "on  west- 
wards over  a  very  Hat  pass,  a  watershed  between  the 
Chaktak-tsangpo  and  Xyuku.  along  a  road  which  had 
once  Wen  a  tasam ;  numerous  ruins  and  vumis  were 
memorials  of  that  time.  The  district  was  thicklv  peopled 
by  nomads,  and  black  tents  were  often  seen  where  sheep 
hieatc-d  and  dogs  barked;  women  and  bovs  guarded  the 
Hocks,  and  yaks  grazed  on  the  sloi)es.  Tlie  countrv  calls 
to  mind  the  summer  pastures  on  the  Pamir.  A  second 
puppy  died  in  the  night,  and  was  almost  eaten  up  by  ravens 
Ix'forc  morning. 

On  June  12  we  came  again  to  the  tasam  at  Xyuku 
where  we  set  up  our  camp.  The  Gova  of  Xvuku,  whose 
friendship  I  had  gained  at  Saka-dzong,  was  verv  obliging 
and  said  that  I  was  cjuite  at  lilxrtv  to  make  ancHhei^ 
detour  to  the  north,  as  I  seemed  to  (lislike  the  high-road. 
It  would  take  me  up  to  a  pass,  where  almost  all  the 
mountains  of  the  world  could  i.  seen,  especiallv  Lumlx> 
gangn  immediately  to  the  north.  Here  we  should  come 
in  contact  with  people  of  the  province  ot  Bongba,  who  per- 
baps  wc.ulcl  sell  us  ^  all  necessaries.  In  Xyuku  the  third 
P-VP.r  <Htw.  Ihe  iibttan>  ^aid  that  it  suffered  trom  a 
throat   complaint   called   gakpa.    which    is   very   common   in 


6S 


TKA\S-H  I  MALAYA 


CBAP. 


the  country.  Mamma  Puppy  gave  herself  no  trouble  alxjut 
lur  lit  til-  ones  wlun  tluy  were  ill,  liut  seemed  rather  to 
avoid  them.  We  washid  them  with  warm  water,  and 
tended  them  to  tin  Ixst  of  our  p(jwer,  and  did  evirythinj,' 
wc  could  think  of  to  >ave  the  last.  'I'hi'  Tibetans  could 
not  understand  how  wc  could  make  such  a  fu»  alxjut  a 
(log. 

Hlui■^h-whitt■  flashes  (|uivcre(i  over  the  mountains  all 
the  evening,  and  their  outlines  sto(Kl  out  sharp  and  dark 
in  the  lightning.  That  is  a  sign  of  the  setting  in  of  the 
nKHisoon  rains  on  the  southern  tlank  of  the  Himalayas, 
and  all  look  forward  to  them.  When  rain  falls  up  here, 
the  grass  grows  up  in  a  .ouijIc  of  days,  tlie  lattle  become 
fat  and  sleek,  the  milk  is  thick  and  yellow;  at  the  j)resent 
time  it  is  thin  and  white,  and  |)ro(luces  little  butter.  The 
existence  of  the  nomads,  and  indee<l  the  ])ros])erity  of  the 
whole  country,  depends  on  tlie  monsoon.  It  is  the  summer 
pasture  which  helps  the  herds  to  endure  the  scarcity  of 
the  rest  of  the  year.  If  the  rains  fail,  the  stock  languish 
and  die. 

The  night  is  silent.  Only  occasionally  is  heard  the 
hearty  laugh  of  a  girl  or  the  bark  of  a  dog.  The  camp 
watchman   hums  an  air  to  keep  himself  awake. 

The  13th  was  a  lazy  day;  we  had  to  wait  for  Tundup 
Sonam  and  Tashi.  I  always  shave  myself  on  rest  days 
—  it  is  pleasant  to  feel  clean,  even  when  there  is  no  one  to 
smarten  oneself  up  for.  Robert  shot  three  wild-geese,  and 
caught  two  yellow  goslings  which  walked  into  his  tent  and 
made  hay  there.  We  put  them  in  the  crystal  clear  Men- 
chu  river,  hoping  that  some  kintlly  goose-mamma  would 
take  to  them. 

From  here  it  is  said  to  be  only  four  days'  journey  to  a 
district  in  Xe])al,  where  there  are  fir-woods.  Just  fancy: 
lir-wood  as  in  Sweden  and  in  Simla !  But  we  must  remain 
in  thi-^  dreary  land. 

Just  as  we  were  starting  on  the  following  day  the 
Hajji.  Islam  .\hun,  and  GalTar  came  to  me,  and  demanded 
exemption  from  night  duty  and  separate  rations  if  they 
n-ere  tc  stay  with  me.  I  called  ail  the  other  nun  together, 
and  asked   if  any  one  else  would  join  them  now  that  they 


XL 


ALONG    nVWAVS   TO   TKADUM 


69 


were  to  Ix.'  (li-misM(l.  Ikit  no  one  wished  to.  Our  Hajji, 
the  only  one  of  the  Mohammi-dans  who  had  Ix-en  in  Mecca 
—  had  indeed  Ix-en  twice  there  -  was  the  only  rascal  in  the 
caravan.  He  had  in-tigated  the  others.  In  my  experience 
Mecca  j)il,<,'rims  are  always  scoundrels.  The  Hajji  declared 
that  he  |)ret\Tred  rohlxTs  and  trani|)s  on  the  road  to  (iutTaru 
and  the  other  Ladaki-.  The  three  men  vani>lu(l  from 
>ij,'ht  a>  we  marched  north  westwards  up  the  valley  of  the 
Men  (lui. 

In  canif)  Xo.  177,  on  June  15,  I  held  a  grand  reception, 
for  >ome  i  hiefs  from  the  direction  of  Hongl)a  came  to  visit 
me,  and  our  old  friend,  the  Gova  of  Tradum,  arrived. 
They  decided  that  I  niii^ht  ride  a  short  distance  to  the 
north,  but  only  on  condition  that  I  came  hack  the  same 
day.  So  on  the  16th  we  rtxle  on  fresh  hired  horses  U[)  to 
the  Kilung  la.  where  the  view  was  in>tructive  and  showed 
the  lie  of  the  land.  Before  u.s  was  the  dark  Luml)ogangri 
with  its  deep  wild  valleys  and  steep  clilTs.  its  small  j^lacier 
tongues  and  caps  of  eternal  snow.  The  men  of  the  district 
said  that  the  mountain  was  holy,  and  was  a  kind  of  portal 
or  forecourt  to  the  Kangrinpoche,  the  celebrated  pilgrim- 
age mountain  near  the  sources  of  the  Indus.  Hehind 
Lumbo-gangri  are  the  valley  and  river  of  the  Rukyok- 
tsangpo,  which  llows  to  the  Chaktak-tsangpo.  It  was  now 
clear  to  me  that  tliese  summits,  of  which  Ix'arings  were 
taken  by  Ryder  and  Wofxl,  could  not  lie  on  the  watershed 
of  the  rivers  flowing  to  the  ocean.  But  no  one  knew  the 
true  asj)ect  of  the  country  farther  north,  and  the  Bongba 
men  had  l)een  ordered  to  stop  us  if  we  tried  to  force  our 
way  in  that  direction.  I  could  not  by  entreaties  or  threats 
otjtain  more  than  the  view  from  '  the  Kilung-la.  The 
further  we  proceeded  westwards  the  more  of  the  blank 
space  on  the  map  was  left  behind  us.  That  was  exceed- 
ingly annoying,  but  my  hopes  were  still  fi.xcd  on  the 
Chinese   letters   from   Lhasa. 

On  the  morning  of  the  17th  all  the  mountains  were 
lovered  with  snow,  but  the  day  was  warm  and  fine  as  we 
nnle  up  to  the  Serchung-la.  and  saw  to  the  south-west  the 
r;!;rt,iernrnost  crest  of  ilie  iiliiialayas  and  the  broad  valley 
of  the  Brahmaputra.     The  valley  descending   from   the  pass 


1^ 


70 


TKANS-IIIM.M.AVA 


is  full  of  hnishworxl  and  drifting  -^and.  which  is  piled  up  in 
dunes   to  a   lui^lit   of   marly    20   feet. 

AftiT  an  intiTotinK  and  suctissful  march  \vc  came  to 
the  vallev  jundion  Daniliak  ron>,'.  Hut  the  flay  was  not 
yet  ov(  r.'  \\\  hi  ard  that  Nastr  Shah's  son  had  arrived 
the  day  l)efore  at  Traduni  on  h'\^  way  to  La<lak"with  twenty- 
two  mules.  A  mi'sseni,'ir  was  therefore  de'-p.itt  he<l  to  a^k 
him  to  wait  for  u>,  and  give  u>  tiilings  of  'I'undup  Sonam 
and  Ta-hi.  The  (Jova  of  Tradum  a!>o  nnle  home  to  get 
all  in  order  against  our  arrival.  A  short  time  pa-<i'd  hy.  and 
then  a  horseman  came  up  at  a  smart  trot  from  llu-  Sin  hung 
vallev.  He  had  evidently  followed  our  track;  he  nxle 
straight  to  mv  tent,  di-mounte<l,  and  handed  me  a  letter 
witl^a  large  seal,  hearing  the  words.  "Imperial  Chinese 
Mission.   TilHt."   and    \hv   snne   in   C"hinesi>   characters. 

Now  our  fate  would  Ix'  settled.  The  Ladakis  crowded 
round  my  tint.  I  jurceived  tliat  they  hoi)ed  we  should 
Ik-  ol)lige(l  to  return  hy  the  direct  road  t(«  Ladak.  They 
longed  for  home,  and  were  not  in-pired  by  the  same 
interests  as  mvself.  The  ten-ion  was  extreme  as  I  opened 
the  letter.  It  was  dated  at  Lhasa  on  June  ;v  Ji"'i  ^i^*'  'x'^"" 
fourteen  da\s  f)n  the  way.  It  was  written  in  faultless 
English  by  Ho  Tsao  lining,  first  secretary  to  II.  E.  Chang 
(Tang  Darin),  and   ran  as  follows: 

Di  AR  Dr.  Hkpin  —  Your  letter  to  liis  !,.^cellency  Cliang  dated 
the  14th  "'ly  was  duly  receivi-d.  Knowing  that  you  have  arrivefi 
at  Kaka  t.itsang,  that  Devashung  hindered  you  to  [)roceed  forward. 
His  K.xceliency  is  very  sorry  to  hear  such  occurrence;  and  he 
instructed   me  to  write  you  the   following:  — 

That  in  His  Kxcellency's  last  letter  to  you  he  wrote  you  to 
return  l)y  the  way  you  came;  and  now  he  docs  not  understand 
why  you' are  taking  another  road  contrary  to  what  he  wrote  you, 
consi'quentlv,  vou  have  met  w  ith  such  inconveniences,  to  which 
His  K.xcelleniy  regrets  very  mueh  indeed.  His  K.xceliency  has, 
now.  again  ordered  Devashung  and  ollieials  along  the  way  to  give 
you  alT  ix)s>ihle  jirotection  and  comfort,  hut  he  sincerely  ^^  ishing 
you  not  to  change  vour  direction  to  the  N.W.,  ^vhere  l)oth  the 
country  and  peoiile  arr  wild  (I  wonder  how  he  could  know  that), 
;m.<l  that  accidents  might  haiipen,  which  His  K.xceliency  can 
hardlv  bear  anv   resiK)n>it)ility. 

Therefore,  His  K.xceliency  wishes  you  only  to  return  by  the 
wav  as  vou  came,  not  to  venture  in  other  directions. 


Ml 


Tli.l   1   \N     ll'iV-^     \Mi    t;iK-|>    III     S  \K  \     \Mi      Ir  ■  M. 

>k'  li  111  -  I'-,   ihi    \iiilMr. 


M 


■.■^' 


7X'- 


-^i^b^.- 


m 


ALONG    HVWAVS    TO     I  KADL'M 


71 


Hi-  KxcclltTiry  ,t;ivt-.  his  hot  rcuar,'<  to  you  and  wi-hini:  you 
a  liajjpy  and  >afi-  return.  —  J  am  yours  \i.ry  truly. 

Ho  TSAO  HSING. 

That  wa=;  all  T  pot  by  the  stratagem  which  had  cost  us 
so  much  l(jss  of  time.  .\  j)Ositive  prohibition  to  proceed 
north-westwards  to  the  land  of  my  dreams.  Xow  the 
Deva^'hun}:;  would  issue  fresh  orders,  and  we  should  be 
watched  more  closely  than  ewr.  Xow  the  iron  gates 
would  he  closed  again  from  the  south,  and  the  way  to  the 
forbidden  land  barred.  Tang  Darin  was  as  immovable  as 
the  State  Si'cretary  for  India,  Lord  Morley.  Hut  he 
stimulated  my  ambition,  and  for  that  I  have  to  thank 
him.  To  lagin  with,  we  seized  the  copy  of  our  passport, 
which  was  to  be  transferred  from  (iova  to  (jova  all  along 
the  road. 

But  not  yit  had  this  fateful  day  come  to  a  close.  At 
sunset  came  Tunduj)  .Sonam  and  Tashi,  dusty  and  ragged, 
with  their  bundles  on  their  backs.  "\\\lcome  and  well 
done,  20  rupies  each  and  new  suits  of  ( lothes  is  vour 
reward.  What  news?"  No  letters,  but  onl\  a  note  from 
Ma  that  he  had  forwarded  my  letters  to  Lhasa,  and  sent  a 
letter  from  (julam  Kadir  to  .Muhamed  Isa.  Thev  had 
reached  Shigatse  in  eleven  days,  and  liad  rested  there 
three  days.  Then  they  had  set  out  from  Tashi  lunpo  directly 
westwards.  They  made  a  fast  and  long  march  on  the 
first  day,  and  climbed  up  to  the  pass  Ta  la  at  sunset,  where 
nine  highwaymen,  two  with  guns  and  the  others  with 
swords,  fell  upon  them  and  threw  them  to  the  ground. 
The  two  guns  were  set  on  their  rests  and  the  barrels 
pointed  to  the  men's  heads,  the  seven  swords  were 
drawn,  and  one  of  the  roI)lx'rs  said: 

"If  you  value  your  lives,  hand  out  everything  of  value 
you   have." 

Frightenefl  out  of  their  wits,  the  two  Ladakis  begged 
them  to  take  all  ihey  wanteil  if  they  would  only  spare  their 
li\es.  The  nine  robbers  then  opened  their  IjundK'S  and 
thoroughly    plundered    them,    taking    even    their    little    gaos 


v«..L- 


;i . 


-!  s    fsn; 


HKJeS 


I'.r.:]  iniages,  as  well  ns  their 

in    silver.     They    were    allowed    to   keep    the   clothes    they 


I 


I] 


72 


TRAXS-ni  MALAYA 


h;ul  on  tluir  1)acks.  By  jiurc  chance  the  robbers  had  over- 
looked a  small  i)acket  of  ,so  trn,i^,is,  which  Tundup  Sonam 
had  put  at  tlie  Ixak  of  his  girdle.  The  robbers_  cleared 
them  out  in  a  minute,  and  then  disappeared  into  the 
mountains,  (^ur  two  defeated  heroes  remained  weeji- 
in^'  on  the  battle  field  till  dark,  and  then  they  went  ot7, 
very  slowlv  at  first,  turninf,'  round  frecjuently  and  fancying 
thev  saw  a  robl)er  in  every  shadow,  but  afterwards  they 
fjuickened  their  pace  almost  to  a  run.  Deadly  tired, 
they  crei)t  under  two  boulders  by  the  wayside,  and  next 
morning  came  to  tliree  black  tents,  where  they  <,'ot  _fo(Ml, 
anfl  were  tokl  that  a  lama  had  been  roblx'd  and  strip])e(l 
naked  on  the  Ta  la  two  days  lx.-fore.  But  now  they  were 
safe,  and  it  was  touching  to  sec  how  delighted  they  were 
to  l)e  with  us  again.  They  had  seen  Muhamed^  Isa's 
"rave,  and  the  conversation  about  it  reminded  Tsering 
of  his  sorrow. 

On  June  t8  we  travel  across  open  country  to  Tradum, 
our  route  following  the  northern  side  of  the  valley,  while 
the  lasam  runs  along  the  southern.  The  ground  was 
sandv.  Small  irritating  horseflies  buzz  in  the  nostrils  of 
the  horses  and  drive  them  frantic.  They  walk  with  their 
noses  on  the  grou'  1,  like  the  wild  asses,  to  escape  the  flies. 
To  the  right  is  uie  Tuto-pukpa,  a  mountain  to  which 
corpses  are  carried  on  yaks  from  Tradum  to  be  cut  up. 
We  ride  between  pools  where  wikl-geese  are  plentiful  \yith 
their  i)retty  yellow  goslings.  At  a  projecting  rock,  cairns 
and  streamer'  poles  are  set  up;  the  wall  of  rock  is  black, 
but  all  the  side  facing  the  road  is  painted  red  — "Ah,  this 
is  blood  on  Bakler's  sacrificial  stone."  Here  the  village 
of  Tradum  can  be  seen,  its  temple  and  its  chhorten  on  a 
hill.  To  the  south-west  the  dark  snow-crowned  rampart 
of  the  Himalayas  ajipcars,  wild,  grand,  and  precipitous. 
To  the  south-east  lies  the  tasam,  a  light  winding  riband, 
and  our  path  runs  into  it;  it  is  40  feet  broad  Ix-tween 
grass-grown  terraces  of  sand;  it  is  the  great  trunk-road 
of   Tibet. 

We  had  scarcely  set  up  our  camp  when  the  discharged 
Hajji  and  \\\>  l^vo  companions  came  up.  and  salaamed. 
But    I    was    angry,    and    drove    them    away.     I    afterwards 


XL 


ALONG    BYWAYS    lU   TRADUM 


73 


luanl  that  thev  \w\)l  and  I  was  heartily  sorry  that  I  ha.l 
ln'cn  i  unkind.  Hut  it  was  loo  latv,  for  they  were  seen 
tramp    .;  out   wearily  into   ihu  steppe   when   the  shades    of 


evenin;^   fell 


rhe  nKjnastcry  Traflum-gompa  is  subject  to  Tashi 
lunpo,  and  its  five  monks  live  on  the  pnxluce  of  their 
sheep  and  yaks,  and  carry  on  trade  with  Nepal.  Round 
the  temple  are  ei.t^ht  chliorlrns.  and  in  the  Ihakati}!,.  the  hall 
of  the  gcxls,  the  immortal  son  of  Sakya  is  enthroned 
Ix'tween  the  eleven-headed,  six-armed  Avalokitesvara  and 
other  deities.  On  a  small  hill  of  schist  aljove  the  co.ivent 
is  a  hermit's  dwelling,  where  there  is  a  sj)lendid  view  over 
the  Brahmaj)utra  valley  and  the  Tsa-chu-tsangpo  as  it 
emerges  from    the  mountains. 

Here  died  our  fourth  puppy,  which  I  had  hoped  to  keep 
as  a  remembrance  of  Shigatse.  Mamma  Puppy  had  now 
her  mat  to  herself,  and  outside  the  tents  lay  the  two  black 
dogs   from   Ngangtsc-tso. 

The  Gova  of  Tradum  was  an  excellent,  genial  ."ogue, 
anfl  had  a  thorough  contempt  for  the  Devashun,  He 
wouM  not  let  me  follow  up  the  Tsa-chu  valley,  but  ade 
no  objection  to  an  excursion  to  the  Kore-la  pass,  two  days' 
journey  ofT  to  the  south-west,  and  belonging  to  the  Hima- 
lavan  range  which  is  the  watershed  between  the  G  ges 
and  the  IJrahmai)Utra.  He  also  let  us  hire  six  horses,  and 
gave  us  two  guides  for  the  journey,  which  was  to  be  com- 
menced on  the  morning  of  June  20. 

The  first  night  we  were  to  encamp  at  the  spot  where 
the  Tsa-chu-tsangpo  enters  the  upper  Brahmaputra.  I 
nxle  south-south-west  with  my  usual  retinue  over  grassy 
steppe  and  sand-dunes.  In  front  of  us  were  three 
wanderers  with  bundles  on  their  backs  and  staves  in 
their  hands.  When  wc  overtook  them  they  stopped, 
came  forward,  and  laid  their  foreheads  on  the  ground  at 
mv  feet.  It  was  the  Hajji  and  the  two  other  men.  I 
was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  taking  them  into  favour 
again.     For  the  future  they  were  to  follow  our  yaks. 

The  camp  was  pitched  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river, 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  crowned  bv  the  ruins  of  the  old 
Liktse    monastery.     Here    an    important    trade-road    crosses 


74 


TRAXS-IIIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


thr  river  and  a  ferry  maintains  roninni'iir.ition  between 
the   banks.     'I'iie   'I'-a  c  liu   river   liad   liere  leadth   of    T,x.h 

yards,  and  a  di|)lli  nf  barely  40  inclies,  we  the  Jirahma- 
putra  was  i  jo  yardi  Ijinad  by  5^  fi'et  deep,  aiid  was  much 
more  imposing  than  fartiier  down.  The  ab>ohite  heif^iu  was 
I  J, 977  feet.  It  was  not  ea>y  to  carry  the  rope  across  the 
stream,  for  a  >tron<^  xiulh-uist  j^'ale  was  bhnvinj.;  and  the 
waves  were  hij^li.  Robert  rowed  out  from  the  ri^ht  l)ank 
with  the  rope,  and  from  the  left  some  Ladakis  waded  out 
a;s  far  as  they  could  in  the  shallow,  slowly  deepenint^  water 
to  catch  the  end  thrown  to  them  and  secure  it  on  shore. 
When  at  last  we  had  >tret(  hed  the  rope  across,  it  broke 
with  the  pressure  of  the  v.ind  and  the  waves,  and  the  work 
had  to  l)e  done  af^ain.  We  noted  a  temperature  of  5,3.6° 
in  the  air  and  oi  59.7'^  in  the  water,  but  the  men  were  so 
chilled  by  the  wind  that  they  had  to  make  a  ^ockI  t'lre.  It 
also  rained  heavily  —  the  lirst  rain  we  had  had  since  we  left 
Ladak  —  and  thunder  rolled  amouL;  the  mountains. 

For  the  first  time  the  minimum  temperature  in  the 
ni<^ht,  37.8°,  was  above  free/.inf^'ixiint,  and  the  morning 
was  beautiful  after  the  storm :  the  sky  was  only  half 
covered  with  brij^ht  summer  clouds,  not  a  I)reath  of  air 
stirred,  and  the  surface  of  the  river  was  smooth  as  a  mirror, 
only  sh'i^htly  broken  by  slowly  movint,'  whirlpoi  N.  The  ferry 
was  already  J^lyin;^  across  with  passengers  and  goods.  The 
ferryman  is  paid  a  /<;/.!,'(;  for  each  passage,  and  he  crosses 
over  twice  in  the  hour.  Our  horses  and  yaks  were  made 
to  swim  over  the  river  after  they  had  grazed  at  night  on 
the  steppes  on  the  left  bank. 

We  rale  21 A  miles  on  the  21st,  but  first  paid  a  visit  to 
the  little  Liktse-gompa  monastery,  which  stands  on  the 
inner  side  of  the  hili,  and  therefore  has  not  the  fine  view 
obtained  from  the  old  ruined  monastery  on  the  summit. 
I'Yom  its  window-openings  the  monks  could  watch  the 
oscillating  life  of  the  river  during  the  various  seasons  of 
the  year:  its  slow  fall  in  spring;  its  rise  during  summer, 
when  volumes  of  turbid  water  come  down  from  melting 
snow  fields  and  glaciers;  its  decline  in  autumn,  and  the 
freezing  of  il;c  rr.\r  in  tlie  co'il  uf  winier.  And  they 
could    see   the   breaki  ig-up   of    the   ice    in   spring,    and    the 


! 

L 


1-^ it 


220.    W'lw.w    (ir   V\i-i.;t'        2  ir:.    T\V"   '!"[ i'.K  r  w-.         ■■  : 
J  ^J.     •  ilKI.     \l     1'a-,  \-c;rK. 
Skfli  lii-s  liv  ihc  Aulli'ir. 


:  "^ 


I 


XL 


ALONG    BVWAVS   TO   TRADUM 


75 


preat  rlattirin;,'  slalis  dancing  down  the  current.  Rut  now 
the  i)r()S[H(t  l)efore  the  eyes  of  the  ten  monks  is  only  a 
wretched  loamy  valley  between  barren  hills,  for  their 
convent  lies  apart  from  all  roads.  Liktsi'-gomi)a  is  a 
dei)endency  of  Sera,  l)Ut  receives  no  support  from  it, 
and  possesses  no  herds.  The  profits  from  the  ferry  art' 
the  only  revenue  of  the  monks.  The  alilx)t,  Punjun 
Dun^,  with  a  red  turban  and  a  j^rey  beard,  shmwd  me 
the  g(xls  in  the  lluikatii^.  Ikiddha,  Padina  Sambhava,  etc. 
.\mon,i,'  the  usual  sacrid  objects  on  the  altar  were  two 
human  skulls  converted  into  drinking  vessels,  one  of 
them  lined  with  silver.  In  the  courtyard  the  holy  dog 
was   chained    Uj). 

Then  we  mounted  and  rr)de  ofT  quickly.  Wc  perceived 
at  once  that  thi>  road  is  much  frequented.  On  the  steppe 
and  in  oj)en  soft  valley  bottoms  it  is  less  clearly  marked, 
for  there  every  one  marches  where  he  likes;  but  over 
jia^-es  and  on  spurs  with  hard  stone  the  tracks  converge 
from  all  sides,  and  there  the  road  has  been  trfnlden  down 
and  worn  in  the  course  of  centuries.  On  the  small  i)ass 
Tsasa-la  we  met  a  large  caravan  laden  with  barley. 

"Where  have  you  come  from?''  I  ask. 

"From  Mundang  in  the  country  of  Lo  C}a[)u." 

Mundang  is  marked  on  the  English  maps  of  Xepal. 
but  who  was  Lo  Gapu,  "the  King  of  the  Southern  Land"? 
It  sounded  so  grand. 

The  next  pass  is  called  Dorab-la,  and  from  the  top  we 
sec  the  Chockar-shung-chu,  a  broad  valley  with  a  brook 
draining  partly  from  the  Koreda,  and  flowing  to  the 
Brahmaputra. 

While  we  arc  resting,  GufTaru  passes  with  his  black 
baggage-train  in  close  order,  a  troop  of  laden  yaks,  whist- 
ling and  singing  Tibetans,  and  some  Ladakis  with  our  own 
horsis  as  a  rearguard.  They  soon  disappear  in  the  dust 
i)f  the  road,  two  of  our  men  resting  awhile  in  a  cleft  to 
take  a  putT  or  two  from  their  weather-worn  narghiles. 
I'rom  this  point  they  march  westwards  to  the  rendezvous, 
vdiile    we    continue    southwards. 

In  the  vaiiev  leading  u\)  to  \h<j  Xgurkung-la  a  large 
?.ill    caravan    on    the    way    to    Xepal    was    encamped.     The 


76 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP.    XL 


twelve  leaders  had  [)iled  up  a  fine  shelter  of  sacks  of  salt 
a^'ainst  the  violent  winrl.  We  then  came  to  the  very 
broad  valley  which  ascends  to  the  saddle  of  the  pass  vi>ible 
in  the  south.  We  nxle  up  for  hours,  though  the  ascent 
was  not  noticeable,  but  the  wind  was  dead  apainst  us.  To 
the  ripht  is  the  water-parting  chain  of  the  Himalayas  w.lich 
we  had  Seen  from  Traduni.  \  curious,  sharj)ly  outlined 
(loud,  like  a  white  torpedo,  cf)vered  it,  and  from  the 
northern  extremity  small  tleecy  flakes  jiarted  from  time  to 
time  and  floated  away.  We  camped  near  .some  black  tents 
in  a  side  valley  close  to  the  extraordinarily  flat  pass. 


CHAPTER  XLI 


A  PEEP   INTO  NEPAL 


It  was  on  June  22  that  I  storxl  on  the  platform  of  the 
Kiirc-la  pass  and  gave  a  stolen  glance  into  Nepal,  and 
trii-d  to  get  a  glim|)se  of  Dhaulagiri  peak,  26,670  feet 
high.  Hut  the  morning  was  dull,  heavy  clouds  lay  like 
l)illow^  on  the  earth,  and  nothing  could  Ix'  seen  of  the 
>urrounding  mountains.  "We  must  wait  till  it  clears," 
was  the  only  order  I  could  give.  But  just  then  a  milk- 
Liirl  came  from  a  camp  of  20  tents  which  was  near  at  hand. 
The  people  were  Xepalese  subjects,  but  were  camping  on 
the  Tilx'tan  side.  The  girl  said  that  it  was  only  a  short 
d.iv's  journey  to  the  nearest  j)ermanent  dwellings  and 
gardens,  and  two  days'  journey  to  Lo  Gapu's  summer 
re>i(lencc. 

Then  we  thought:  "We  may  as  well  rifle  down  the 
M)uthern  side  of  the  pass  as  stay  up  here  in  the  wind." 
Xo  sooner  said  than  done!  The  tents  are  folded  up,  the 
animals  larlen,  wc  mount  and  ride  along  the  eastern  side 
nf  the  vali  up  to  the  Kore-la,  which  from  the  Tibetan 
-ide  little  resemljles  a  pass,  for  to  the  eye  the  grass-grown 
nr  unfruitful  loose  ground  seems  quite  level.  Of  the 
-nowy  mountains  on  the  western  side  of  the  valley  only 
tile  dark  base  is  visible;  layers  of  clouds  lie  close  alx)ve 
ihu  earth ;  one  feels  as  though  one  could  push  one's  head 
against  the  roof.  A  ruined  house,  where  jx'rhaps  a  frontier 
L'uard  once  dwelt,  a  couple  of  long  manis,  and  loose  blocks 
"f  conglomerate  stand  on  the  top.  A  caravan  comes  up 
liom  Xebuk  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

We   look   round   in  vain   for   the  actual   watershed,  and 


78 


IKANS-ll.AlALAVA 


ClIAl' 


i 


,„„,     u     onlv     l.v     n..ti(in^     rivulet,     running    t..^;.tluT    an,l 
,  in.     .HUhwanh.       ll..v     -.      l.uht     a     l.r.     an.l     lA 
",i  n         'llu-  virw   i.   •narvil..u..  at  any  rate  a  rflul 

s     wv    .nountain.     t.,     the     >outli.    whul,     yc>tcnlay     1. mk. 
H      lu      lnu.l>,    are.    in.Kol,   ol.cur..l,    hut   our   s..llcy> 
:,     plv    an,l    unit,    into    a    lar;,.    valley,    in    the   <lepth. 
;\,   i    ;-.ra..v     ,.1.4.    an.l     heKl.    >hine     .n    .leep    >,.r.n^ 
•nlure      ami,l'the      everlasting      ^rey,      yellow      and    rol 
h,     -c    pe.     l).nvnhel..w   the  >un   i.  >hinin,    an.l   lxlun<     u. 
skv   i.   clear   ahove   the    IJrahnKq.utra    valley,    while   1  ere 
an,l    n.un.l    all   the    snowy    mountains    tloat    opaciue    c  ouk 
Fn.m    the     saddle     lyin^     ^vc>t     ol     our     l-''\"'f     ^' .'^'^^ 
innumerable  valleys  radiate  out;    the    >urla_e   of     Ik        Iges 
between   them   is   nearlv  level,  or  dips   -ently   to  the-   south 
^whil^hc    valleys  \ire    deeply    cut-in    h.e.inons^^ 

the  promontories  at  the  meel.n.i;  ol  the  val  e>s  are  b  oUn 
shor!  o^.  IVrhaps  some  of  the  nearest  peaks  .  '^  «'"^  , 
In-is  ri^e  like  islands  alx.ve  the  sea  ol  tlou.ls,  tor  her  and 
tiKre  Tretlexion  from  sun  li^iUed  hn>  helds  seems  f.  Ix^  try.n, 
to  break  through  the  veil  of  douds  (lllustrat.;.n  233). 

We    stand    on    the    frontier    between     1  lix't    and    Nepal. 
Behind  us  to  the  n<.rth  we  have  the  Hat.  level  land  on  the 

Southern    bank    of    the    '^ -n:n>"  v''^'"\TT  hdt 

.,=    feet    fn.m   the    river    to   the    kore  la,    where    the  hei-m 

is    iq^Q^feet.     And    from    the    pass    there    is    a    headlon- 

iLcc^^t'tu    the    Kali    (iandak.    an    alHuent    of    ^^e      .anj^s- 

Hv  means  of  a  canal  cut  thr.,u-h  the  kore-la  the  Brahma 

nutra    mi^ht    be    turned    into    the  Ganges.     Northern  India 

needs   water  for   irrij^ation,  but   the   gain  would    P^^h^ps    x 

small,  f..r   the    Brahmaputra   in   Assam   w..uld   Ix^'   a.   mucn 

.liminishe.l    as    the    Ganges    was    mcrease<l.     ^'!>^'    ;^?y 

lose  bv  the  chan-e.  and  a  number  of  villages  on  the   Kal 

Gan.la'k    woul<l    be    swept    away      A    new    road    ^vol.W  j^ 

opened  for  the  invasion  of  India  from  the  north,  and  there 

.e   on   the   wh<.le   it   is   perhaps   l>est   for   all   parties   con 

cerned   to  leave  things  as  they  are.     But  the  changes  h 

indicated  will  some  time  come  to  pass  without  artificial  aH 

,     ,--1   .  .,f  tVip  K"':  G'"'i'«l>-  are  eatmL'  back  norin 
lor  me  teritauer,  •-■i  tnt  rs.t,,.   -»••••■ ---    -     _    • 

wards   into    the    mountains    much    more    quickly    than    m 


•'-•U 


I      I 


XLI 


A    I'KKi'    INK)    NKl'AL 


79 


r->an>^j><)  is  tnxlinn  it^  valky.  Smv  tinu'  or  otlur,  |>«r 
li.ijo  in  a  luindnil  thoii^ainl  yiar  ,  ttu'  (iaiv^ts  s\>tiin 
\\ill  have  fXti-Milol  \{>  t<.ntaiK>  to  tlu'  hank  of  thr  rsin;,'|'o, 
,inil  tlun  will  \k  lornud  a  l)it'urtation  uhiili,  in  [\w  courM' 
■  >f  time,  will  hrin,:^  alxtiit  a  total  revolution  in  the  |)ro|iorlion> 
"f  the  two  river-,  and  tluir  draina^^e  aria>. 

Now  wc  arc  in  Xipal  and  ^o  on  foot  ilown  the 
deilivities.  Here  little  lia>  U-en  done  to  imjjrove  the 
road.  ( )iea>ional!y  an  aukward  liloek  of  granite  ha^  Inen 
rolled  away,  leaving  a  ^a|)  in  the  hnastwork ;  in  other 
re>[)etts  the  caravan  tratlie  lui>  done  nio>t  for  the  road, 
wearinp^  it  dovMi.  It  i--  ea>y  and  i>lea>ant  to  ^o  down 
southwards  towards  den^^er  air;  it  Ueomes  warmer,  and 
we  l)reathe  more  ea>ily :  tile  vc'nlure  increases,  and  flowers 
I  if  different  colours  make  the  ;.,'ra>s  gay.  We  try  to 
loru'ct  that  we  must  toil  up  all  these  slo|)es  again;  let  us 
go  down,  down,  to  enjoy  a  summer  life,  if  only  for  twenty- 
luur  hour>,  and  forget  dreary  'lilHt.  .\n  hour  ago  the  wind 
tilew  icy  C(jld  on  the  |>ass,  and  nctw  we  feel  the  >oft  zephyrs 
U'ently  caressing  the  height>.  KolxTt  takes  in  deej) 
draughts  of  the  tejjid  air  and  fancies  he  hears  a  whispered 
welc(jme  to  India;  'IVering  and  Ka'osang  lx'Cv)me  lively 
and  contented,  and  I  muse  over  a  visit  to  the  King  of  the 
Southland. 

Three  horsemen  rcxlc  slowly  up  the  ascent.  'I'wo  of 
llum  Were  turning  their  prayer  mills.  They  looked  aston- 
ished. We  asked  whence  they  came  and  whither  they 
were  going.  They  were  going  to  the  tent  village  on  the 
plateau.  When  they  were  told  who  we  were,  in  answer 
t)  their  question,  they  dismounted  and  Ix'gged  pardon 
for  not  greeting  us  at  first.  I  readily  forgave  them,  for 
I  looke<l  like  a  ragged  tramp.  They  advi-ed  us  to  j)ass 
the  night  in  one  of  the  houses  of  Lo  Ga|)U,  and  invited 
us  to  visit   them   in   their  tent   village  on   our   way  hack. 

The  gradient  Ix'comes  less  steep,  and  we  come  to  an 
eX[)ansion  where  three  valleys  meet,  the  Kungchuk-kong, 
which  we  have  followed,  in  the  middle,  the  Pama  on  the 
ea.-,t,  and  the  Damm  on  the  west.  From  the  Damm  valley 
only  comes  a  small  gushing  hrook.  We  pass  along  the 
right  side  of  the  united   valley.     On  the  same  side  a  very 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


I,    vane,    opens     JheVa^a-uM,.  ^^^^^^t:;:, 

houses  and  mrs.     On    the    Ui    Md      ol  ' ^^,,^   of 

barely  2^  furlongs  broad.  t|,^.   ijt,  pebble 

Below   the   side   valley   p"'^'^'^"? ''"Vu"  „'erous    caves 
bc-ds    stand    in    V^^^^^-^f%;:^:^;tJ^TZ^n^, 
and    grottoes.     ^'^^'^^ '^'^S,/' ^'1""^^^^^ 
for  they  are  connecU.l  vith  ^       ^ou^cs  and  ^^^^ 

of    them.     Lower  ^-J^^   ^^^  of  the  us^al  Tibetan 
among  gardens        1  he  'i^^  '^"J""  ^         j  decorations  of 

style,  White  and  -^  --     >;i^^  ^  ^^    .ore    luxuriant 
streamer    po  es.   /  ^"/ '{(.  ""rr,nucntly    pass    ruined    walls 

hinder  our  advance.  ,        |  ..(jj 

The  usual   mams  l.e   alonR   Ihe    ro^'l-   "™   f^,,     Vlow 

:tr'he  r   a^^lT  :r.    '';r:,e[ih.  .he  n,,,.,  dense  air. 

Vk''.!  .he  wind  rus.hn«  .hrou^h  .he  .re.MJ  ^,  ^o 

S„„n  .uo  men  apfearexl,  "*"•'-■;'"  "'''rf^',  iha,  we 

Gapu,  asking  for  inf.;rma.,on  »';«"' J^'^J^'^l^^'n^^  Tso- 
.Jc  in  .he  distnct  Is;,   and  .ha.  tk   mer  .a     ^^^^^^    ^^^ 

Uharki-.san8pe,^  A    ydl  K      .e    ean    see^^  ,^   ^^^^^^^^^      _^^ 

'■^'Tl'-T-.f   ■      '5^-,    -uld  Ik-  reaehed  by  cross.nR  only 

a:-Ui-ciivS.    -n    ■■■'    -J' I         _  ,  -,  ^  iroritlcr 


'-'■M. 


ti. 


XLI 


A    PEEP   INTO    NEPAL 


8i 


was  obliged  to  pay  a  visit  to  Ills  Highness  every  fifth 
year.  lie  had  500  •subjects.  The  people  for  three  days 
farther  soiitli  were  Lamaists  and  spoke  a  Tibetan  dialect, 
in  which,  iiowever,  many  Indian  and  Persian  words  were 
incorporated. 

When  one  of  the  men  had  obtained  all  the  information 
he  desired,  he  rcnie  down  the  valley  to  make  his  report  to 
the  frontier  chief.  Meanwhile  we  held  a  consultation.  I 
had  only  Robert,  Tsering,  Ral)sarg,  and  l.vo  Tibetans 
with  me,  and  our  funds  consisted  of  only  24  rupees.  The 
temptation  was  great  to  wander  a  few  days  more  south- 
wards through  the  wild  deep  valleys  of  the  Himalayas. 
Here,  in  the  X;ima-shu  camp,  we  were  at  a  height  of  12.487 
feet,  and  therefore  2805  feet  lower  than  the  Kore-la. 
Every  day's  journey  southwards  would  bring  us  into  a 
denser  atmos|)here,  and  even  now  we  were  not  far  from 
shady  coniferous  wockIs.  But  would  it  be  prudent  to 
advance  further  into  Xepal  ?  We  were  much  puzzled,  antl 
considered  the  matter  from  all  sides.  Our  money  would 
not  last  more  than  two  days.  Our  horses  bclongal  to  the 
Gova  of  Tradum,  and  we  had  agreed  with  him  that  we 
would  only  take  a  look  into  Nepal  from  the  Kore-la,  and 
now  we  had  crossed  the  Iwundary  and  descendcxl  into  a 
land  where  our  position  was  less  secure  than  in  Tibet. 
We  might  fall  into  a  trap  lx,'fore  we  were  aware  of  it.  Lo 
Gapu  might  arrest  us  and  \sk  for  orders  from  Khatmandu. 
The  greatest  danger,  houever,  was  that  the  Tibetans 
might  close  the  frontier  and  render  our  return  impossible, 
and  then  say  that  now  wc  had  left  their  country  we  might 
not  enter  again.  And  then  wc  should  be  cut  off  from 
the  main  caravan,  and  all  the  results  of  my  journey  would 
Ix'  endangered.  I  therefore  decided  to  turn  back  early 
ne.xt  morning  Ix-fore  Lo  Gapu's  men  had  time  to  come  up 
and  arrest  us. 

The  evening  was  fine  and  long,  and  we  enjoyed  it 
thoroughly  under  the  rustling  of  the  thickly  foliaged  trees. 
I  felt  perfectly  comfortable  anrl  breathed  freely:  the  heart 
had  not  to  lalK)ur  so  heavily  as  on  the  Chang-tang;  it 
worked  for  hniir<  together  without  an  effort;  our  feet  -vere 
warm,  and  we  slej)!   as   we   had   seldom   done.      For  in  the 

VOL.  n  o 


M 


82 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


I     ! 

;,         i 


('lian<,'  t,.n^'  if  one  sleeps  even  ei{,'ht  hours  one  does  not  feel 
rested"  an(?  refreshed  on  rising;  one  docs  not  derive  the 
proper  Ijenefit  from  sleei).  Here  we  experiei.ced  a 
thorouphlv  comfortable  feehng  after  our  night's  rest,  and 
our  only  (lisai)poinlment  came  from  the  clouds,  which  con- 
cealed the  summus  of  the  Himalayas  to  the  south  and 
south  south-west.      Only  now  and  then  the  peaks  looked  forth 

for  a  minute.  .        „r     u    i 

On  June  23  wo  mounted  our  horses  agam.  We  riad 
hiard  no  word  of  Lo  Oai)U.  When  the  messenger  had 
left  us  he  was  convinced  that  we  should  continue  our  way 
down  the  vallev,  and  the  little  potentate  was  perhaps  now 
exiH'Cting  our  arrival.  He  might  wait!  We  rode  slowly 
up  to  the  Kore  la,  left  our  oKl  nxid  to  the  right,  and  camped 
at  Kung-muga. 

I  was  sitting  at  my  drawing  when  a  horseman  came 
clanking  uj).  He  held  in  his  hand  a  green  flag,  a 
messenger's  l)adge  amc^ng  the  Chinese  and  Jibetans. 
I  felt  sure  that  he  had  some  connection  with  strict 
measures  against  us,  but  found  that  he  was  only  the 
bearer  of  a  ])r()clamation  from  Lhasa  to  all  the  stations 
as  far  as  Gartok,  that  horses  and  baggage  animals  should 
be  supplied  to  two  Chinamen  "ho  hail  been  despatched  to 
iind  me  out  and  talk  with  me.  and  convey  to  me  a  letter 
from  His  Excellency,  Lien  Darin.  They  might  \)c  ex- 
pected anv  moment. 

Midsummer  Day  was  as  dull  as  possible.  The  whole 
country  was  l)uried  in  impenetrable  fog,  and  even  the 
adjoining  tents  were  invisible.  .'\nd  when  it  had  cleared 
a  little,  the  mountains  were  still  concealed.  We  rode 
north-westwards  on  an  excellent  road,  and  were  astonished 
at  the  numerous  ntaiiis  with  their  close,  fine,  raised  in- 
scriptions on  i)ur|)le  and  dark-green  schist ;_  other  prpyer 
stones  had  characters  1.2  or  1.6  inches  high,  while  the 
largest  characters  were  nearly  8  inches  high,  so  that  there 
was  oiilv  room  for  one  character  on  each  slab.  Then  six 
slabs  wJre  placed  in  a  row  to  spell  out  the  sacred  formula, 
"Oni  mani  padme  hum."  On  some  votive  stones  the 
characters  were  red,  cut  out  in  round  j>ieccs  of  granite  wiih 
a  v.hite  underlayer.      The  largest  mani  was  262   feet    long. 


m^MMWTwnmt^^mm' 


iA--»'lj*i3U''ii-IliiW  . 


xu 


A   PEEP   INTO   NEPAL 


83 


Wc  passed  encampments  \vith  large  herds;  wild  asses 
grazed  along  with  tame  yaks.  All  the  men  we  met  halted 
and  saluted  us.  The  (jova  of  'J'radum  came  to  meet  us; 
he  pulled  a  very  solemn  face,  and  wondered  whether  Lo 
Gapu  would  Ix;  angry  at  our  visit  to  Nepal.  We  reached 
Bando,  near  the  small  lake  Tsotot-karpo,  over  the  small 
saddle  Tasangda,  and  found  GulTaru  waiting  for  us  with 
the  caravan. 

On  the  25th  wc  made  a  short  march  up  to  Chikum, 
whence  the  Ts(Jtot-karpo  is  still  visible.  We  had  only 
l)ro visions  for  one  day,  but  the  Gova  of  Tradum  otTered  to 
jjrocure  more  if  we  would  pay  well  for  the  horses  we  ha<l 
to  hire.  He  had  no  fear,  he  said,  of  the  Chinese  who 
were  coming;  if  they  scolded  him  for  allowing  us  to 
travel  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Tsangpo,  he  would  reply 
that  it  was  easier  to  supply  us  with  j)rovisions  there  than 
-n  the  north  side.  He  had  formerly  been  a  lama  in 
Tashi-gembe,  but  had  lost  his  heart  to  a  lady.  To  hush 
up  the  atTair  he  had  startexl  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Kang- 
rinpoche,  but  was  caught  and  forbidden  to  return.  Then 
lie  had  gradually  worked  his  way  up,  and  was  now  chief  of 
Tradum,  and  was  just  as  great  a  rascal  in  secular  life  as 
he  had  Ix-en  in  the  religious  life.  However,  he  rendered 
us  good  service. 

The  view  from  our  elevated  camp  was  magnificent. 
When  the  full  moon  had  risen  up  in  the  sky  the  small  lake 
shone  like  a  silver  blade.  The  sun  had  left  only  an  after- 
glow on  the  western  horizon,  but  the  whole  plain  of  the 
Brahmaputra  and  the  mountains  of  Chang-tang  in  the 
north  were  clearly  defined  in  dull  clear  shades,  which 
left  all  the  finer  details  indistinguishable.  A  cloud  with 
l)right,  silvery,  white  margins  floated  before  the  moon. 
A  little  to  the  right  another  cloud  caught  a  reflexion  of 
the  sun,  and  showed  golden  margins.  They  were  the 
angels  of  night  and  day  fighting  for  supremacy.  Soon 
night  had  won  the  victory,  and  now  the  moon  cast  a  bright 
path  over  the  lake,  while  all  around  was  involved  in  a 
general  mist. 

vwRn  uay  nan  resumed  u>.  b'.v;ty   v. c  ;miu  m  m^   shin- 
ing air  through  swarms  of  flies,  stinging  gnats,  and  horse- 


8.1. 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


M 


V  I 


l\ 


flii's  11])  owT  the  Taj^Hi-hi  and  down  the  Tambak  vallry. 
To  llu-  wist  the  most  northerly  chain  of  the  llimahiyas 
made  a  ma-^nifucnt  (li>i.lav,  and'  to  the  north-west  hiy  the 
Ijroad  open  valley  of  the  Hrahmai)Utra,  the  river  winding 
alon<,'  the  middle  like  a  blue  riband.  This  evening,  too, 
the  return  of  night  called  forth  a  brilliant  i)lay  of  colours 
and  K.neelTects.  Light,  restless,  motionless  to  the  eye, 
but  riven  bv  the  upper  winds  like  old  i)rayer  streamers  on 
a  pass,  the 'clouds  sailed  at  sunset  in  the  vault  of  heaven. 
The  mo<in.  the  friend  of  all  nocturnal  wanderers  and 
sleepers  in  the  open  air,  illumines  the  surroundings  of 
our  tents,  among  which  the  l)lue  smoke  of  the  camp-fires 
lies  like  a  veil  over  the  ground.  The  yaks  stand  still  as 
shadows,  and  now  and  then  their  teeth  are  heard  grinding 
against  the  cartilaginous  process  of  the  ui)per  jaw.  1  he 
'fradum  (lova  and  his  servants  hum  their  evening  prayer 
and  rattle  their  jjraver  mills. 

In    the   morning   comes   a   ciuickly   passing   shower   and 

another  before   noon.     We   notice   all   the   signs  of   the  sky, 

and  wisli  for  rain  as  much  as  the  Til)etans,  not  on  our  own 

account,  but  for  the  light-footed  antelopes,  the    wild    asses, 

and   the  mountain  sheej).      The  clouds  are  blue  black  over 

the    mountains   to   the   south,   and    from    them    hang   down 

elegantlv    curved    fringes    and    draperies    heavy^vith    rain. 

One   can   hear   in   imagination   the   drops   splashing   on   the 

stones,    and    new-l:K)rn    torrents    rushing   down    the    valleys. 

The  trilling  rain  that  has  fallen  in  our  neighljourhood  can 

only    moisten   the   ground    for    a    short    time.     The    drops 

made    a    i)leasant    sound    as    they    pelted    on    the    Tradum 

Gova's  umbrella  and   on  my  Curzon  hat.     Thunder  rolled 

heavily   and    solemnly   round   about   in   the   mountains,   like 

an  echo  of  the  trum'pet  of  the  last  judgment. 

Then  we  cross  the  Xerung-tsangpo,  come  out  into  the 
great  valley  i^lain  of  the  Brahmajiutra,  and  encamp  in  a 
countrv  inhabited  by  numbers  of  nomads.  The  Gova  of 
Xagor'  was  a  tall,  agreeable  man.  who  i)rocured  us  tsaviba, 
chattg,  and  goose  eggs  —  a  pleasant  change  to  our  perpetual 
(Hot  of  mutton.  Robert  and  Shukkur  AH  caught  fish. 
The  Gova  told  me  that  his  parents,  who  belonged  to 
Kham,   had   made  a   pilgrimage  to  the   Kang-rinpochc  and 


-'  -i''.      A  (  nil'  'III  \    IN    .\  F  r  \i 


2i7.      (ikia  i'  Ml     iinKi  \N    \\.i\ih  • 


f 


XLI 


A   PEEP   INTO   NEPAL 


8S 


had  left  their  h'ttlc  son  Ix-hind,  cither  In-  mistake  or  on 
purpose.  The  youngster  had  grown  up  in  the  tents  of  the 
wild  nomads,  and  ncnv,  though  a  stranger,  had  Ix-come  the 
chief  of  the  district. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  \vc  rode  up  to  Xamla- 
gom{)a.  on  a  rocky  prominence,  where  the  view  was 
extensive  and  instructive.  At  the  eastern  foot  of  the 
projecting  mountain  lies  the  village  Xamla,  a  few  {xwr 
stone  cabins,  and  here  the  river  Pung  chu,  flowing  out 
of  the  lake  Ujam-tso,  enters  the  jjlain.  The  monastery  con- 
tains some  images  of  gilded  bronze,  and  seven  monks,  of 
whom  one,  a  man  of  sixty-six,  has  lived  fifty  years  within 
its  walls.  They  are  jjoor  and  have  to  beg,  but  they  re- 
ceive freewill  offerings  from  the  nomads  living  in  the 
neighlx)Urhofxl. 

Across  a  plain  of  cracked  loamy  soil,  which  is  flooded  at 
high  water,  we  gain  our  camp  on  the  liank  of  the  Tsangpo; 
the  river  looks  like  a  lake,  and  that  this  is  also  the  case  in 
late  autumn  is  shown  in  Ryder's  remarkably  conscientiously 
drawn  and  accurate  map.  The  breadth  here  is  973  yards 
broad,  and  the  maximum  dej)th  only  2.4  feet.  It  may,  there- 
fore, l)c  easily  waded,  and  the  yak  caravan  marches  cjuietly 
through  the  water.  How  dilTercnt  it  is  farther  east,  where 
the  river,  hemmed  in  Ix-tween  steep  mountains,  is  deep 
and  tumultuous !  In  late  summer  it  cannot  Ix;  wadeti  here, 
and  even  a  lx)at  dare  not  venture  over  because  of  the 
treacherous,  shifting  sand-banks.  During  our  measure- 
ments the  Ladakis  went  across  the  river,  measuring  the 
breadth  with  poles  and  ropes,  and  held  the  boat  still  while 
I  investigated  the  velocity  of  the  current.  When  the 
work  was  finished,  Rehim  Ali  Ixgan  to  carry  Robert  to 
the  bank,  but  he  slipped  on  the  smooth,  clayey  lx)ttom, 
and  lx)th  took  an  involuntary  bath,  causing  all  the  rest  of 
us  to  laugh  heartily. 

Xe.xt  day  the  fragile  baggage  was  conveyed  across  in 
a  lx)at,  and  the  rest  on  hired  yaks,  which  tramped  through 
the  turbid  dirty-grey  water.  On  the  northern  bank  we 
ride  through  peculiar  country.  Here  are  lakes  and 
swamp»s,  caused  by  arnis  (jf  llie  river,  and  lying  amid  a 
collection   of   sandhills   as   much   as   26   feet   high.     We   try 


m 


M 


1 


Kft — r^ 


86 


TRAXS-H I  MALAYA 


CBAP. 


) 


all  (lircrtions  to  avoid  sandhills  and  deep  creeks,  and 
fre'iurnily  ride  straight  throuijh  basins  with  yielding 
ground;  in  >()me  there  i>  a  slight  current,  while  others 
art-  stagnant.  Here  and  there  i>lets  of  siml  ri>e  out  oi 
tlu'  V.  Iter,  some  barren,  otlurs  with  gra-s  and  stalks.  It 
i-^  a  thoroughly  di>integr  ited  country,  but  full  of  pleasing 
varii  ty.  (Inats  i)ur>ue  us  in  regular  douds.  Some  men 
go  in  front  to  pilot  us.  We  often  get  into  deep  water 
and  have  to  turn  baek.  The  high  water  washes  away 
the  gnater  part  of  the  driftsand,  and  deposits  it  on  the 
bank>  of  the  Hrahinaputra  lower  down.  Hut  when  the 
riviT  falls,  fresh  >and  aerumulates  and  forms  new  dunes. 
The  driftsand  therefore  finds  a  rusting  j)laee  here  on  its 
way  to  the  east  We  encamped  by  the  last  lagoon,  and 
heard  the  fi>h(^  splashing  in  the  water.  The  whole 
country  reminds  me  of  Loi),  the  swampv  region  in 
Kastern  Turkestan,  and  the  continual  struggle  there 
between  driftsand  and  flowing  water.  The  di>trict  is 
named  Dongbo,  and  here  the  (lova  of  Tuksum  and  other 
chiefs  awaited  us.  The  lu>t  named  had  heard  that  the 
('hinamen,  of  whose  coming  we  had  been  informed,  had 
left  Saka  dzong  and  were  on  their  way  hither.  He 
c.\})ected  that  they  would  arrive  Ixfore  evening. 

On  June  7,0  we  made  most  of  our  march  along  the 
tdsiiDi,  on  which  Xain  Sing  and  the  English  expedition 
had  travelled ;  for  I  durst  not  pass  round  Tuksum,  which 
was  mentioned  on  my  passjxjrt.  The  greater  part  of  the 
way  runs  among  fine,  regular,  crescent-shaj)ed  dunes,  which 
move  eastwards  over  the  ])lain  before  the  prevailing  wind. 
They  are  ephemeral  phenomena:  they  live  and  die,  1)Ut 
are  always  replaced  by  others.  The  horns  of  the  crescent 
protrude  far  in  the  direction  of  the  wind,  and  the  slope  is 
very  steep  on  the  windward  side,  as  much  as  17  degrees, 
while  on  the  sheltered  side  it  is  as  steep  as  the  falling  sand 
will  allow. 

(laniugompa  stands  on  an  isolated  hill  to  the  wc'st  (;f 
the  (lanju  la.  It  is  sulx)rdinate  to  the  Brel)ung  monastery, 
and  has  a  llmkniii^  with  twelve  ])illars  and  four  rows  of 
divaiis,  as  v.v!!  .;>  fwur  large  drums.  The  .statues  of  the 
go<ls   look  down  with   gentle   smiles  on  the  homage  paid  to 


ri'-^^ii^fi? 


't^'^ 


i-',*i®! 


-i:^F?"i-;a^  -''^iX''^"^,:     Ti-f>T " 


iiar;»t^s;^' 


MI 


A    PEEP   INTO   NEPAL 


87 


i 


thim  by  nomaris  and   truvclkrs.     Only  five  monks  and  as 
many  do^'s  live  in  (Janju. 

The  whole  population  of  Tuksum  came  out  to  meet  us 
lyfore  their  village.  It  was  agreed  with  the  (iova  that 
(iulTaru  and  the  main  caravan  >hould  [)roceed  to  Sham 
sang,  while  I  with  a  couple  of  attendants  travellal  hv  for- 
bidden Dads  on  the  >outh  side  of  the  river.  In  the 
evening  a  dejnitation  of  Ladakis  came  to  wait  on  me 
with  the  recjuest  that  they  should  \k-  ;dlowed  to  give  a 
feast  in  honour  of  Muhamed  Isa,  to  Ik-  j.aid  for  out  of  his 
outstanding  pay.  But  I  thought  this  a  little  too  cool,  see- 
ing that  the  money  belonged  to  the  widcnv  of  the  deceased. 
They  might  have  a  feast,  however,  at  my  own  e.\i)ense, 
but  there  would  Ix-  nothing  but  mutton,  cbaiif;,  and  tea. 

On  the  morning  of  July  i  I  had  another  a[)plication, 
this  time  from  five  young  Ix-ggar  girls,  ragged  and  black, 
with  bundles  in  frames  of  wikkI  on  their  backs,  and  large 
pilgrims'  staves  in  their  hands.  They  had  lx.-en,  like  so 
many  others,  at  the  Kang-rinpoche,  and  reckoned  it  a 
year's  journey  to  their  home  in  Kham.  They  Ix-g  their 
way  from  tent  to  tent.  It  must  Ix  a  serious  burden 
to  the  nomads  to  maintain  the  numerous  pilgrims  that 
pass  along  this  road. 

We  said  gofxi-byc  to  GufTaru  and  his  followers  on 
July  2,  anfl  riding  in  a  south  westerly  direction  over  the 
[)lain,  set  up  our  camp  191  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Brah- 
maputra, which  here  carried  down  1978  cubic  feet  of  water. 
\e.\t  morning  the  baggage  was  taken  over,  and  we  had 
also  the  honour  of  helping  over  the  river  a  high  lama, 
whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  in  Tashi-lunpo.  He  wore 
a  yellow  robe  with  a  red  mantle,  and  had  a  small  yellow 
wocxlen  hat  as  bright  as  metal.  His  servants  were  armed 
with  guns  and  swords,  and  tfK>k  all  their  baggage  over  the 
river  on  yaks.  But,  unfortunately,  the  yaks  got  into  deep 
water  and  Ixgan  to  swim,  so  that,  of  course,  all  their 
l)aggagc  was  thoroughly  soaked.  We  also  helped  a 
shejjherd  with  some  lambs  over  to  the  other  side,  and  if 
we  had  waited  longer  we  might  have  done  a  ferryman's 
work  ail  day  with  our  Ixjat  (Illustrations  240,  241). 

Then    wc   crossed   over   two   other   arms,    and    the   total 


0 


( 


n 


88 


TRANS  IIIMAI.AVA 


CUAP.    M.I 


't 


,      I 


(li>(li;ir^c  of  tile  nralimapiiira  at  tlii>  [)Ia(<'  proved  to  l)c 
^j  I ;  (uliii  fnt.  'I'lir  t'l^^iirts.  however,  ohtairu'd  on 
f^.iu^in^  till-  ri\rr  mi  mar  it.-,  sourci-,  art-  of  infrrior 
value,  i>|)e(  ially  uhiii  ilu'  iiultirif^  of  the  snow  ha>  <|uite 
set  in.  |)artly  lHeau>e  the  >ouree  streams  rise  towards 
evening,',  carrying  the  water  from  thi'  (hiy's  thaw  down 
to  the  main  valli'y,  j)artly  Ix'eause  the  vohime  of  water 
(Upends  to  a  great  extent  on  the  weather.  At  the  lir^t 
(h»\\n|)oiir  of  rain  the  rivers  are  little  affeetid,  t'^r  the 
watir  is  ahsorln-d  by  the  dry  soil,  hut  whin  thi>  is 
soaked  throui^h.  the  water  nins  olT.  and  the  rivers  swell 
enormously  after  a  single  rainy  day.  When  the  sky  is 
overea.^t  without  rain  they  fall,  but  in  quite  clear  weather 
the  sun  thaws  the  snow  and  (ause>  the  rivers  to  rise 
again. 

It  was  a  long  day's  journey,  for  in  many  of  the  tents 
the  j)eople  refused  to  give  us  the  helj)  we  wanted,  and 
therefore  we  passid  on  to  the  great  tributary  (lyang  ehu, 
which  (omes  from  the  south  and  reii'ives  many  streams 
from  the  northernmost  rangi'  of  the  Himalayas. 

I  have  no  time  to  give  an  account  of  the  geogra{)hy  of 
this  region  o  i  the  south  side  of  the  Hrahmaputra.  I  will 
only  say  that  during  the  following  days  we  were  cut  ofT 
from  the  main  river  by  low  mountains,  and  that  we  did 
not  encamp  again  on  its  bank  till  July  6,  when  we  came 
to  the  Cherok  district.  We  had  left  several  tributaries 
behind  us,  and  the  main  stream  carried  only  1554  cubic 
feet  of  water. 

After  another  short  day's  march  we  rejoined  GuiTaru's 
party  in  Shamsang  (15,410  feet)  on  the  great  high-road,  where 
twenty  one  tents  were  now  standing.  The  chiefs  of  the 
neighlK)urho(Kl  were  very  altinfive,  and  did  not  say  a  word 
against  my  proposal  to  go  up  to  Kubi-gangri,  which  shows 
its  snowy  ])eaks  to  the  south-west,  and  in  which  the 
sources  of  the  Hrahmaputra  were  said  to  lie.  They  pro- 
cured us  provisions  for  twelve  days,  and  we  had  not  had 
so  free  a  hand  for  some  time.  Here  nothing  had  been 
heard  of  Chinese  or  Tibetan  pursuers  from  Lhasa. 


;  I 


1 


"J**, 


tT--:*  :     i=^ 


i 


\ 


db 


1' 


r  i 


;S.    Uinii  \   i\    J  HI,   \'n  i,\i,i.  lit   \ 


\i.l.    lih    .\  Wll   \. 


I.  ) 


^1         f     . 

^         i      i 


.\M,      Im1\HII\     l^uh      Illl      \ll  I    \  .1      III     X  \M1    \. 


^^m^m^^m 


CHAPTER   XLII 

IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  BRAHMAPUTRA 

Now  we  were  already  far  to  the  west;  the  force  of  circum- 
stances had  forced  us  to  leave  behind  us  step  by  step  ever 
larger  areas  of  unknown  country  to  the  north.  I  was 
vexed,  but  I  would,  at  any  rate,  endeavour  to  do  all  that 
was  possible  in  my  hampered  condition.  At  Shamsang, 
Ryder's  Lahtsang,  we  were  at  the  place  where  the  actual 
sourco  streams  of  the  Brahmaputra  converged  from  various 
(lirec:  IS.  I  had  long  determined  to  push  on  to  the 
unknown  source,  unless  the  Tib(;tans  placed  unsurmountable 
obstacles  in  my  w.. . . 

The  learned  and  clear-sighted  Colonel  Montgomerie 
had  sent  Xain  Sing  in  the  year  1865  up  the  valley  of  the 
upper  Brahmaputra  (Illustration  380).  From  our  Sham- 
sang  the  Pundit  crossed  the  Marium  la,  and  said  in  his 
report  that  the  sources  of  the  river  were  certainly  in  the 
huge  chain  seen  in  the  south,  and  were  fed  by  its  glaciers. 
He  did  not,  however,  go  to  look  for  the  actual  sources,  but 
continued  his  journey  westwards. 

The  next  year,  1866,  Thomas  Weblx-r  mafic  an  ex- 
cursion into  TilK'tan  territory,  and  his  route  lay  a  little 
to  the  south  of  Xain  Sing's.  On  his  sketch  maj)  it  may 
l)e  seen  that  he  crossed  some  of  the  •  ■  ice  streams  of 
the  Tsangpo,  but  of  the  tract  in  whi(  the  sources  are 
situated  he  gives  no  further  indication  than  "Snowy 
ranges  unexploretl."  And  when  he  says  in  his  text 
that  here  are  the  sourrec  of  th«-  great  Brahmaputra, 
which  have  their  origin  in  the  Guria  glaciers,  the  con- 
fusion is  hopeless;  for  the  sources  of  the  river  lie  60  miles 

89 


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TRANS-HIMALAYA 


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from  Gurla,  a  mountain  which  has  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  Brahmaputra. 

The  poHtical  exijedilion  which,  under  the  command  of 
kawhng  in  the  elo^e  of  the  year  1904,  had  (lartok  for  its 
destina'ion,  and  the  chief  resuU  of  which  was  the  admir- 
able map  of  the  ui)i)er  Hrahmaputru  valley  surveyed  by 
Ryder  and  his  assistants  (Map  7),  travelled  from  Shamsang 
over  the  Marium  la  and  n(jrth  of  the  Gunchu-tso  to  Mana- 
Siirowar.  It  was  therefore  of  the  greatest  importance  to 
me  to  travel  to  the  south  of  their  route  through  country 
they  had  not  touched  on.  They  travelled  by  the  same 
road  as  N'ain  Sing,  and  left  the  source  of  the  river  at  a 
distance  of  40  miles  to  the  south.  From  Ryder's  report 
it  might  be  supposed  that  he  considered  the  ^Iarium-la  to 
Ix.'  the  cradle  of  the  Hrahmaputra;  but  in  a  letter  I  have 
recently  received  from  him,  he  states  that  such  is  not  the 
case,  but  that  he  always  recognized  that  the  actual  source 
must  lie  among  the  mountains  in  the  south-west,  which  he 
has  set  down  on  his  map  from  bearings  taken  of  their 
peaks.  Ryder  also  remarks  in  his  report  that  the  principal 
headwaters  come  from  there. 

Instead  of  entering  into  a  ditTuse  discussion  of  the  prob- 
lem, I  intnxluce  in  this  book  small  sketches  of  the  maps  of 
my  three  ijredecessors,  Xain  Sing,  W'eblxT,  and  Ryder.  Xo 
other  traveller  had  ever  Ix-en  in  this  region,  and  I  would 
on  no  account  miss  the  opportunity  of  penetrating  to  the 
actual  source  of  the  Brahmaputra  and  fi.xing  its  position 
defmitely. 

Ihnv  was  this  to  Ijc  done?  At  Shamsang  the  source 
streams  meet,  and  below  this  point  the  united  river  bears 
the  name  Martsang-tsangpo.  First  of  all,  I  must,  of  course, 
gauge  the  (|uantities  of  water  in  the  source  streams,  and,  if 
they  were  nearly  equal,  we  must  be  content  to  say  that  the 
Brahmaputra  has  several  sources. 

With  ten  men,  the  boat,  and  the  necessary  measuring 
apparatus,  I  betook  myself  first,  on  July  8,  to  the  point  on 
the  southern  side  of  the  valley  where  two  streams  run 
together,  the  Kubi-tsangpo  from  the  south-west  and  the 
Chema  yundung  from  the  west.  -A  short  day's  march 
farther    wrst    the    Chema-yundung    receives     the     Marium- 


XLII 


SOURCE  OF  THE   BRAHMAPUTRA 


91 


chu,  which  comes  from  the  Marium-la.  First  the  unitol 
stream  was  gauged,  and  found  to  discharge  1554  cubic 
feet  of  water  per  second,  and  immediately  after  the 
Chema-yundung,  which  discharged  almost  353  cubic 
feet.  Subtracting  this  from  the  volume  of  the  united 
river,  we  get  1201  cubic  feet  as  the  discharge  of  the 
Kubi-tsangpo.  This  river  is  then  three  and  a  half  times 
as  large  as  the  Chema,  and  it  should  Ix?  rememberet]  that 
the  Chema  also  receives  the  water  of  the  Marium-chu,  so 
that  its  353  cubic  feet  represent  the  united  volumes  of 
two   tributaries. 

When  we  encamped  in  the  evening  with  the  main 
caravan  in  the  Umlx)  district  (15.427  feet),  where  the  Chema- 
yundung  and  the  Marium-chu  unite,  the  rivers  were  very 
considerably  swollen,  and  the  water,  which  had  Ix-en  clear  in 
the  morning,  had  Ix-come  turbid.  Therefore  only  the  two 
measurements  taken  at  the  same  time  were  directly  com- 
parable, and  I  will  pass  over  all  the  subsequent  measure- 
ments. To  arrive  at  the  source  we  had  only  to  know  that 
the  Kubi-tsangpo  is  far  larger  than  the  two  others,  so  we 
had  to  follow  its  course  up  into  the  mountains,  which  none 
of  my  predecessors  had  c'one.  The  Tibetans  also  said 
that  the  Kubi  was  the  upper  course  of  the  Martsang- 
tsangpo. 

On  July  9  we  parted  from  GufTaru  and  the  main  cara- 
van, which  was  to  keep  to  the  great  high-road  and  cross 
*he  Marium-la  to  Tokchen,  while  Robert  and  I  with  three 
I.adakis  and  three  armed  Tilx-tans  followed  the  Kubi- 
tsangpo  up  to  its  source.  Our  way  ran  west-south-west. 
Where  wc  crossed  the  Chema-yundung,  a  good  distance 
a])ove  the  last  delta  arms  of  the  Marium-chu,  the  river 
carried  little  more  than  140  cubic  feet  of  water,  and  there- 
fore the  Kubi-tsangpo,  flowing  to  cMe  south-east  of  it, 
is  here  fully  eight  times  as  large.  At  the  ford  our 
Tibetans  drove  a  peg  with  a  white  rag  into  the  ccJge 
of  the  bank,  and  when  I  asked  why,  they  answered: 
"That  the  river  may  not  become  tired  of  carrying  its 
water   lown  the  valleys." 

At  Tok-jonsung,  where  we  bivouacked  among  some 
black   I'.nts,   the  Chema   lfx)ked   very   large,   but   its   water 


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ran  very  slowly.  The  nomads  of  the  district  go  up  to  the 
Chan^  tang  in  winter.  I  fere  also  we  heard,  as  on  many 
former  occasions,  that  smallpox  was  raging  frightfully  in 
Purang,  and  that  all  the  roads  leading  thither  were  closed. 
Xo  country  lies  so  high  that  the  angel  of  death  cannot 
reach  it. 

In  the  night  the  thermometer  fell  to  15.4°,  but  we  were 
at  a  height  of  13,991  feet.  The  snowy  mountains  in  front 
of  us  to  the  south-west  U'came  more  distinct.  The  Chema 
river  meandi  red  with  a  slow  fall,  anrl  we  left  it  on  the 
right  before  we  came  to  our  camp  in  Sheryak. 

We  ride  on  July  ir  on  to  the  south-west  in  a  rong 
wind,  passing  already  porous,  melting  snowdrifts.  Solid 
rock  is  not  to  Ix-  seen,  but  all  the  detritus  consists  of 
granite  and  green  schist.  We  follow  a  clearly  marked 
nomad  path,  leading  uj)  to  the  small  pass  Tso-niti-kargang 
on  the  ridge  which  forms  a  watershed  between  the  Chema- 
yundung  and  the  Kubi-tsangpo.  The  large  valley  of  the 
latter  is  below  us  to  the  south.  The  water  of  the  Kubi- 
t.sangpo  is  very  muddy,  but  on  the  right  bank  is  a  perfectly 
clear  moraine  lake.  From  the  south-cast  the  aflluent 
Lung-yung  llows  out  of  its  deeply  cut  valley.  The  view 
is  grand  on  all  sides.  From  north-west  to  north-ca.st 
extends  a  confused  .sea  of  mountains,  the  crests  and 
ramifications  of  the  Trans-Himalaya,  intersected  by  the 
northern  tributaries  of  the  upper  Tsiingpo.  To  the  south 
we  have  a  panorama  magnificent  and  overpowering  in  its 
fascinating  vvildness  and  whiteness,  an  irregular  chain  of 
huge  peaks,  sharp,  black,  and  fissured,  .sometimes  pointed 
like  pjTamids,  sometimes  broad  and  rounded,  and  behind 
them  we  sec  fim-fields  from  which  the  snow  slides  down 
to  form  glaciers  among  the  dark  rocks.  Prominent  in  the 
south  is  the  elevation  Xgomo-dingding,  and  from  its 
glaciers  the  Kubi-tsangpo  derives  a  considerable  part  of 
its  water.  To  the  west-south-west  lies  the  Dongdong, 
another  mass  with  glaciers  equilly  c.xten.sive,  and  to  the 
right  of  it  are  heights  called  Chema-yundung-j)u,  from 
which  the  river  of  the  siime  name  takes  its  ri.sc,  and  flows 
down  (ircuitously  to  the  contluence  at  Shamsiing.  To  the 
south-cast  the  position  of  the  Xangsii-la  is  pointed  out  to 


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XLH 


SOURCE   OF   THE   BRAHMAPUTRA 


93 


mountains,  where  the  river 
across   a    few    days    before, 


Gyang 
has    its 


me  heyond  the  nearest 
chu,    which    we    came 
source. 

We  go  down  among  moraines,  granite  detritus,  and 
houlders.  Here  three  small  clear  moraine  i)ools,  called 
Tsoniti,  lie  at  different  heights.  The  ground  becomes 
more  level,  and  we  pass  a  mani,  a  rivulet  trickling  among 
the  rubbish,  and  a  small  pond,  Ix-fore  we  reach  camp  200 
in  Lhayak,  on  the  bank  of  the  Kubi-ts;m,m^o,  where  the 
pasturage  is  excellent  and  we  find  numerous  traces  of 
nomad  cam{)s.  In  .several  places  we  come  across  large 
sheets  of  fine  thin  birch  bark,  which  have  been  detached 
by  storms  and  carried  by  the  wind  over  the  mountains 
from  the  south. 

Our  three  musketeers  told  us  that  all  the  nomads  now 
sojourning  in  the  Shamsiing  I'.istrict  would  come  up  here 
in  a  few  weeks  to  stay  a  month  and  a  half,  till  the  snow 
drove  them  away  again.  In  winter  the  snow  lies  5  feet 
deep,  and  many  men  and  animals  perish  in  the  snowdrifts, 
when  the  herds  go  too  high  up  the  mountains  and  are 
surprised  by  early  heavy  falls  of  snow.  The  autumn 
before,  I  was  told,  2;^  yaks  were  grazing  up  at  the  foot 
of  Xgomo-dingding  when  it  began  to  snow  furiously. 
Several  herdsmen  hurried  up  to  drive  the  animals  down 
to  lower  ground,  but  the  snow  was  heai>ed  up  in  such 
large  quantities  that  they  had  to  turn  back  lest  they 
should  perish  themselves.  In  the  spring  they  went  up, 
and  found  the  skeletons  and  hides  of  the  unfortunate 
animals.  The  Shamsang  Gova  had  lately  lost  some 
horses  in  the  same  way.  Even  the  wild  as.ses  cannot 
escape  from  the  spring  snow.  They  cannot  run  when  the 
snow  is  deep,  and  after  trying  in  vain  to  reach  bare 
ground,  they  die  of  starvation  and 
snowdrifts.  Our  three  guides,  who 
summer  up  here,  assured  me  that 
frozen    in    an    upright    position,    and 

fours  when  the  summer  sun  has  thawed  the  snow.  They 
had  seen  dead  w-i!d  a^^^es  >;tandin(r  in  hen'^  ^c  th'»"«Vi  t*^ev 
were  alive. 

The  snow,  which  falls  in   winter  on   the   source  region 


are  frozen  m 
themselves  pass 
the  wild  asses 
often    stand    on 


the 

the 

are 

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94 


TRAXS-H I  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


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of  thi-  Brahmaputra,  melts  in  spring,  and  together  with 
the  river  ice  |)rfKluces  a  llotxl  of  far  larger  volume,  it  is 
said,  than  the  summer  flood  produced  by  rain.  This  is 
j)robat)!y  true  of  the  ui)pirmost  course  of  the  Tsangpo, 
hut  lower  down  the  rain  llo(jd  is  certainly  the  greater. 
In  general,  the  variations  in  thi'  water-level  arc  more 
marked  in  the  higlur  lands,  and  the  further  the  water 
flows  downstream  the  more  the  fluctuations  tend  to 
disa|)pear. 

"Is  not  our  country  hard  and  terrible  to  live  in?  Is 
not  the  Homlxj  Chimlxj's  country  (India)  better?"  asked 
my  Tibetans. 

"I  cannot  say  that;  in  India  there  are  tigers,  snakes, 
poisonous  insects,  heat,  fever,  and  plague  to  contend  with, 
which  are  not  met  with  up  here  in  the  fresh  air." 

"Yes,  but  that  is  better  than  the  continual  wind,  the 
sharp  cold,  and  the  fruitless  waiting  for  rain.  This  year 
we  have  only  had  a  coui)le  of  light  showers,  and  wc  shall 
lo.se  our  herds  if  more  rain  does  not  come." 

"Well,  the  summer  in  Tibet  is  very  i)leasant  when  it 
rains,  while  in  India  it  is  suffocating ;  on  the  other  hand, 
the  winter  in  Tilxt  is  severe  and  cruel,  but  comfortable 
in  India." 

"Tell  us,  BomlK)  Chimlx),  is  it  you,  with  your  glass 
and  measuring  instruments,  that  are  keeping  back  the 
rain  this  year?  At  this  season  it  usually  rains  heavily, 
but  you  perhaps  ])refer  clear  weather,  to  be  able  to  see 
the  country  ami  that  the  roads  may  not  be  soft." 

"Xo.  I  long  for  rain  as  much  as  you,  for  my  animals 
are  getting  thin,  and  cannot  eat  their  fill  of  this  poor  grass, 
which  has  stocxl  here  since  last  summer.  Only  the  gods 
can  control  the  weather,  and  the  sons  of  men  must  take 
the  rain  and  sunshine  as  they  are  sent  to  them  from 
above." 

They  looked  at  one  another  doubtfully.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  they  had  ascribed  to  me  powers  as 
great  as  those  of  their  own  gods,  and  it  would  have  been 
diflicult  to  Ini^e  convinced  them  of  their  I'rror. 

'A  midnight  the  men  heard  a  one-year-old  child  crying 
and    calling    for    help   on    the    bank   of    the    Kubi-tsangpo. 


\L1I 


SOURCE   OF  THE   BRAHMAPUTRA 


95 


They  woke  one  another  in  astonishment,  and  Rab.s;inf^ 
and  two  Tibetans  went  off  with  a  gun,  thinking  that  it 
was  a  ghost.  When  they  came  near  they  heard  the  child 
weeping  (juite  distinctly,  and  our  heroes  were  so  frightened 
that  they  thought  it  safest  to  make  all  haste  hack  again. 
When  1  asked  them  how  they  knew  that  it  was  a  year-old 
child,  they  answered,  that  from  the  sound  it  could  not 
have  been  younger  or  older.  When  I  suggested  that  it 
might  have  been  a  wolf  cub,  as  there  were  no  human 
beings  in  the  neighbourhood,  they  declared  that  it  must 
have  been  an  uneasy  spirit  wandering  about  the  bank. 

There  must  have  been  something  sui)ernatural  about, 
for  I  dreamed  in  the  night  that  all  the  fragments  of  birch 
bark  which  we  had  seen  on  our  ilay's  ride  were  letter.!,  of 
invitation  from  the  Maharaja  of  Nepal,  that  I  had  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  was  lying  half  asleep  on  a  soft  carpet 
of  grass  and  listening  to  the  rustle  of  the  warm  wind 
among  the  cedars  of  the  Himalayas.  The  dream  was  so 
vivid  that  I  could  not  think  all  day  long  of  anything  else 
but  the  warm  beautiful  land  behind  the  mountains. 

Even  in  camp  No.  200  I  |)crceived  fairly  clearly  how 
the  land  lay,  but  we  were  not  yet  at  the  actual  .source, 
and  therefore  we  continued  our  march  south-westwards  on 
July  12.  The  foot  of  the  snowy  mountains  seemed  (juite 
near.  The  river  is  broad,  and  divided  by  islands  of  mud 
into  several  arms.  On  the  left  side  of  the  valley,  where 
we  march,  arc  a  couple  of  walls  of  green  and  black  schist, 
but  elsewhere  old  moraines  extend  on  all  .sides.  We 
cross  a  stream  flowing  from  the  country  below  Dongdong 
to  join  the  Kubi-tsangpo.  The  Tsechung-tso  is  a  small 
moraine  lake.  The  valley  bottom  rises  slowly,  and  consists 
of  loose  material  sparsely  covered  with  grass.  Occasionally 
a  small  erratic  block  of  grey  granite  is  seen.  Rags,  <lung, 
and  fragments  of  bone  lie  on  the  summer  camping-grounds. 
At  length  the  river  becomes  as  broad  as  a  small  lake, 
enclosed  in  morainic  rubbish  and  driftsand. 

We  camped  at  the  stone  wall  of  Shapka,  one  of  the 
headquarters  of  the  nomads.  Here,  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Kubi-tsangpo,  stands  a  dark  purple  ndge  of  medium 
height  with  patches  of  snow,  which  melt  in  the  course  of 


Me 


06 


TkANS-I  II  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


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till-  summer.  The  hind  at  the  foot  f)f  this  colossiil  moun- 
tain i>  remark  ihly  ll.it,  and  instead  of  a  tone  of  detritus 
there  is  a  stream  ixp.mdi'tl  into  a  lake.  'I  lu'  water  from 
the  meUinj;  snow  ha>  wa.Nned   away  all   solid   matter. 

.•\s  wi'  came  to  camj)  \o.  joi,  at  a  hei^^ht  oi  15,^83  feet, 
the  |)eaks  disiipiH'and  in  (loud>.  hut  ju.>>t  Ix-fore  .sun.set 
the  sky  cleared  ami  the  last  tlouils  lloated  away  like  lif^ht 
white  steam  over  the  glaciers  of  .Xj^omo dingding,  which 
clearly  displayed  their  grand  structure,  with  high  lateral 
moraines  and  concentric  rings  of  grey  lumpy  terminal 
moraines.  The  surface,  e.\cept  where  here  and  there 
blue  crevasses  yawned  in  the  ice,  was  white  with  snow 
and  the  porous  melting  'Tust. 

When  the  sun  had  .ei,  nine  peaks  in  a  line  from  south- 
east to  south-west  sto(Kl  out  with  remarkable  sharpness. 
Raven-black  pinnacles,  clilTs  and  ridges  rise  out  of  the 
white  snowhelds,  and  the  glaciers  emerge  from  colossal 
portals.  .X  whole  village  of  tents  ri.sing  to  heaven  I  The 
source  of  the  Brahmaputra  could  not  be  embellished  with 
a  grander  and  more  magnificent  background.  Holy  and 
thrice  holy  are  these  mountains,  which  from  their  cold  lap 
give  birth  and  sustenance  to  the  river  celebrated  from 
time  immemorial  in  legend  and  song,  the  river  of  Tibet 
and  .\ssam,  the  river  p(ir  iwrcllciur,  the  son  of  Brahma. 
One  generation  after  another  of  black  Tibetans  has  in  the 
cour.se  of  thousands  of  years  listened  to  its  roar  lx;tween 
the  two  loftiest  mountain  sy.stems  of  the  world,  the 
Himalaya  and  the  Trans  Himalaya,  and  one  generation 
after  another  of  the  various  trilx's  of  Ass;im  has  watered 
its  fields  with  its  life-giving  (lotxls  and  drunk  of  its  blcs.sed 
water.  But  where  the  source  lay  no  one  knew.  Three 
c.\[)editions  had  determined  its  jwsition  approximately,  but 
none  had  been  there.  Xo  geography  had  been  able  to 
tell  us  anytliing  of  the  country  round  the  source  of  the 
Brahmaputra.  Only  a  small  numlxr  of  nomads  repiair 
thither  yearly  to  spend  a  coui)le  of  .short  summer  months. 
Here  it  is,  here  in  the  front  of  three  glacier  tongues,  that 
the  river  so  revered  by  the  Hindu  tril)es  begins  its  course 
of  .some  1800  miles  through  the  grandest  elevations  of 
the  world,  from  which  its  turbid  volumes  of  water  roll  first 


SOL"R(  E   OF   Tin:    HKAIIM APLTKA 


07 


to  the  cast,  then  Miuth wards,  ruttinj^  a  wild  valley  thn)uj,'h 
t!u'  Himalayas,  a'  1  liiially  tlouing  south  wcstuards  over 
the  plain>  of  Assam.  \'hr  upper  Brahmaputra,  the 
'I'siinj^po,  is  truly  tin  chief  .irtei  .  (»f  TilHt.  for  within  its 
drainage  basin  is  concentrated  !ie  j^reat  mass  of  its 
|K)pulation,  wiiili-  it-,  lower  course  is  surrounded  hy  the 
most  fruitful  and  populous  provinces  of  Assiim.  The 
Brahmaputra  is  therefore  one  of  the  nohU-st  rivers  of  the 
world,  and  few  waterways  have  a  mori  illustrious  descent 
and  a  more  vari(  '  and  more  f^lorious  career,  for  nations 
have  prf)wn  up  .  its  banks  and  have  lived  there,  and 
their  history  ami  <  ulture  have  Inen  intimatily  connected 
with  it  since  the  earliest  tinus  of  human  records. 

Busied  with  such  tliouj^hts,  I  went  out  again  in  the 
evening  to  gaze  at  the  clilTs  of  the  nine  peaks  which 
showed  like  dim  misty  shadows,  while  the  ice  and  snow- 
fields  })elow,  of  the  .siunc  colour  as  the  sky,  were  not 
Perceptible  in  the  night.  Then  a  Hash  of  lightning  blazed 
up  In  hind  Kubi-gangri,  as  the  whole  massive  is  called, 
and  the  cre.st  crowned  with  eternal  .snow  .stcxxl  suddenly 
out  in  sharp  pitch-black  contours.  Singular,  entrancing 
land,  where  spirit  voices  are  heard  in  the  ligh'  and  the 
sky  blazes  up  in  bluish  light.  I  listened  for  a  ng  time 
to  the  brook  Shapka-chu,  gently  trickling  down  its  stony 
bed  to  the  bank  of  the   Kuiji-t.s;mgfK). 

We  had  still  some  way  U)  go  before  we  ame  to  the 
actual  source,  and  I  could  not  conscientiously  leave  Kubi 
gangri  without  determining  the  absolute  height  of  the  source 
by  the  boiling-point  thermometer.  Our  Tibetans  were  ex- 
ceedingly friendly,  and  seemed  to  take  an  interest  in 
.showing  us  this  point,  of  which  I  had  spoken  .so  often 
during  the  past  days  and  alx)ut  which  I  had  put  so  many 
cjuestiuns.  I  was  really  thankful  for,  and  overjoytxl  at, 
this  unexpected  favourable  opi)ortunity  of  fixing  the 
jxjsition  of  the  .source,  though  I  knew  that  my  excursion 
to  Kubi-gangri  could  only  Ix-  a  very  cursory  and  defective 
reconnaissance.  A  thorough  e\i)loration  )f  thi>  neighbour- 
hocxJ     would     ref'uire     sc.fr.d     V!;tr-;     for     fh 


.»  I  r*^  rv^i 


here  is  short  and  the  time  for  work  is  over  in  two  months. 
But  though  I  succeeded  in  learning  only  the  chief  outlines 


VOL.  n 


i'1 


98 


TKANS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP.    XI.II 


of  the  physical  RcnKraphy.  I  ran  rr)unt  this  excursion  as 
(»nc  i)f  the  most  important  rvrnts  of  my  last  journey  in 
'I'ilH-t.  Accordini^ly.  we  (Urided  to  ride  uj)  to  the  Sf)ur(C 
next  day,  July  i.v  Only  Ral)san>i,  RoIktI.  and  a  Tibetan 
were  to  aicompany  me.  The  rest  were  to  wait  for  our 
return    under   the    command   of   Tscring. 


i 


I 


CHAPTER    XLIII 

THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  SACRED  RIVER  —  A  DEPARTURE 

We  started  off  in  Ix'autiful  weather,  not  a  cloud  hanging 
over  the  summits  of  Kubi-gangri.  We  followed  the  left 
bank  of  the  Kubi-tsang[X),  and  rode  along  the  UkA  of  the 
huge  moraines,  which  here  rise  fully  470  feet  above  the 
valley  IxUtom,  and  which  were  formerly  thrown  up  on 
the  left  or  western  side  of  the  gigantic  glacier,  whence  pro- 
ceeded all  the  glacier  t(jngues  now  remaining  only  in 
short  lengths.  The  morainic  character  is  plainly  re- 
cognizable, sometimes  in  curve<J  ridges  and  walls  falling 
steeply  on  both  sides,  sometimes  in  rounded  hillocks 
rising  one  above  another.  The  surface  is  often  covered 
with  fine  pebbles,  grass,  and  lovely  alpine  flowers  trying 
to  make  the  most  of  the  short  summer.  Here  and  there 
a  landslip  has  taken  place,  and  then  it  can  be  seen  that 
the  rock  shows  no  trace  of  stratification.  Occasionally  we 
pass  granite  boulders,  but  they  are  small,  the  largest  not 
more  than  280  cubic  feet.  On  the  valley  bottom  are 
swamps  with  rank  grass,  and  wild-geese  are  enjoying 
the  summer  in  the  ponds.  We  twice  met  with  fresh 
spoor  of  small  herds  of  wild  yaks  which  had  moved  off 
to  the  right  bank  of  the  Kubi-tsangpo.  The  horses' 
hooves  splashed  in  the  swampy  ground,  seldom  varied 
by   small   patches  of   boulder   clay. 

Numerous  rivulets  descend  from  the  moraines.  They 
are  fed  by  the  melting  snowfields,  and  therefore,  in  con- 
trast to  the  glacier  brooks,  are  crystal  clear.  They  have 
eroded  deep  valleys  in  the  moraines,  and  one  of  them  has 
deposited  a  great  dejection  cone  at  the  mouth,  over  which 

99 


M 


S-   S.^**«.T 


T3^ 


•     if  -  -v--..t 


i 


lOO 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


'(   '1 


h    ' 


h 


•■ ' 


'^if 


the  brook  falls  in  ten  dianmls,  carrying  106  cubic  feet  f)f 
water.  A  very  considcraljjc  proportion  of  llic  upper  Hra!i- 
mai)Utra's  water  is  derived  from  melted  snow.  Rivulets 
rushed  and  spurted  all  about  in  the  rubbish,  and  all  came 
from  the  snowfields,  which  struggled  in  va'  .  against  the 
heat  of  the  spring  sun. 

Now  we  have  right  in  front  of  us  the  immense  glacier 
which  descends  from  an  extensive  t'lrn  basin  on  the  western 
foot  of  the  Mukchung  simo  massive.  Between  its  terminal 
moraines  and  the  older  moraines  we  have  skirted,  a  rather 
voluminous  .stream  has  eroded  its  valley.  Its  water  is 
tolerably  clear  and  green,  so  that  it  i)roceeds  from  .snow- 
fields.  .\  little  below  the  terminal  moraine  it  unites  with 
the  numerous  arms  of  the  muddy  glacier  stream,  of  which 
the  largest  is  the  one  which  llows  nearest  to  the  foot 
of  the  Mukchung  massive.  Even  200  yards  below  the  con- 
fluence the  green  water  can  be  clearly  distinguished  from 
the  brown,  but  afterwards  the  cold  currents  intermingle. 
Where  the  river,  .still  divided  into  a  number  of  meandering 
arms,  turns  past  camp  201  to  the  north-east,  it  receives 
considerable  additions  from  the  glaciers  lying  further  cast, 
and  thus  the  Kubi-tsangpo  is  formed. 

Then  we  ride  up,  zigzagging  among  lx)uldcrs  and 
pebble  beds,  over  ridges,  banks,  and  erosion  furrows,  over 
brooks  and  treacherous  bog,  over  gra.ss  and  clumps  of 
brushwocxl,  to  a  commanding  point  of  view  on  the  top  of 
the  old  moraine  (16.452  feet).  Before  us  is  a  chaos  of  huge, 
precipitous,  fissured,  black,  bare  rocks,  summits,  pyramicis, 
columns,  domes,  and  ridges,  moraines,  tongues  of  ice,  snow 
and  firn  fields  —  a  scene  hard  to  l)eat  for  wild  grandeur. 

Here  we  made  a  halt,  and  I  drew  the  panorama  while 
the  horses  grazed  on  the  slopes.  The  largest  glacier, 
wliich  comes  from  the  Kubi-gangri  proper,  is  entirely 
below  us,  and  we  have  a  bird's  eye  view  of  it.  It  is  fed 
by  three  ditTerent  firn  fields,  and  has  two  distinct  medial 
moraines,  which  here  and  there  rise  into  ridges  where 
the  ice  has  been  thrust  aside.  The  right  lateral  moraine 
is  well  defined,  and  is  .still  partially  covered  with  snow. 
The  left  is  broad  in  its  u|)i)er  part  but  narrow  below, 
where    the    green    stre;im    wa>hes    its    base.     Up    above,    a 


XLIII 


SOURCE   OF   THE   SACRED    RIVER 


lOI 


glac"  •  from  the  west  runs  into  the  main  glacier,  and 
whc  the  two  join  the  side  glacier  is  thrown  up  into  a 
mig!  'vall,  which  merges  into  the  left  lateral  moraine 
of  th  o  her.  All  the  Ixjttom  of  the  glacier  front  is  buried 
in  rublish,  and  the  ice  peeps  out  only  here  and  there. 
Here  are  several  small  sheets  of  water,  some  of  an  in- 
tensely blue  colour,  others  brown,  with  finely  pulverized 
matter,  showing  that  they  are  connectc-d  with  the  water 
of  the  ground  moraine.  'Iwo  of  these  small  pools  have 
vertical  sides  of  blue  ice  like  entrances  to  marvellous  fairy 
grottoes.  A  series  of  marginal  crevasses  are  still  partly 
covered  with  snow.  The  terminal  moraine  is  a  chaos  of 
mounds,  pebbles,  and  boulders,  with  patches  of  .snow  on 
the  shady  side.  In  a  hollow  between  these  hillocks  flows 
the  middle  glacier  .stream,  after  pa:sing  two  ])ools.  The 
terminal  moraine  does  not  increase  in  size,  for  its  material 
is  slowly  disintegrated  and  washed  away  by  ;e  stream, 
which  winds  in  several  arms  over  the  even  bed  of  the 
valley  lx)ttom  just  Ijelow  in  the  most  capricious  curves. 

An  excursion  over  the  surface  of  the  glacier  would  not 
be  difficult  when  one  was  once  ujjon  it.  There  are  many 
dangerous  crevasses  concealed  under  the  .snow  which  may 
be  avoided  by  kee[)ing  to  the  rubldsh  heaps  of  the  medial 
moraines.  The  mass  of  the  Kutu-gangri,  which  from  our 
point  of  view  lies  farthest  to  the  right,  to  the  west-north- 
west, is  called  Gavc-ting;  from  it  descends  the  great 
side  glacier. 

The  front  of  the  main  glacier,  where  the  largest  of  all 
tiie  glacier  streams  of  the  Kubi  gangri  ri.scs,  is  the  actual 
source  of  the  Hrahmaputra.  The  other  streams  which 
enter  it  south-east  of  camp  201  arc  smaller  and  shorter. 
We  could  not  get  to  them,  for  the  horses  simk  too  deep  in 
the  sand  and  mud  of  the  main  stream. 

On  our  return  we  made  a  halt  at  the  place  where  the 
principal  branch  of  the  Kulji-ls.'ingpo  comes  out  from 
under  the  ice,  and  I  found  that  the  source  of  the  Brahma- 
putra lies  at  an  altitude  of  15,958  feet  above  sea-level. 
I  mu.st  leave  details  for  the  scientific  report  of  this  journey, 
which  will   Ix'  published  in  due  time. 

On  July  14  it  seemed  verv  hot  in  my  tent,  for  even  at 


102 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


h    . 


r 


r  ( 


seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  temperature  was  45- 1°; 
in  the  night  there  had  i)een  nearly  14^  degrees  of  frost. 
The  sky  was  perfectly  clear,  and  therefore  I  could  not 
refrain  from  seeking  another  [)()int  f)f  view  to  investigate 
the  beautiful    glaciers    of  the  Kubi-gangri. 

After  arranging  with  Tsering  ttiat  he  should  meet  us 
in  the  valley  of  the  Dongdong  river  we  nxle  uj)  the  banks 
and  ridges  of  the  old  moraine,  through  its  hollows  and 
over  its  terraces  of  barren  soil,  which  was  now  soft  and 
treacherous  from  the  melting  of  the  snow,  past  pools  of 
clear,  green  water,  and  to  the  highest  {xunt  of  its  ridge, 
where  there  was  nothing  to  hide  the  view. 

I  fir.st  took  nine  photographs,  forming  a  consecutive 
series.  Then  a  cloak  was  thrown  over  the  stand  to  make 
a  shelter  against  the  strong  wind,  and  in  this  sentry-lx).\ 
I  Silt  for  nearly  f(jur  hours  drawing  a  panorama  which 
embraced  the  whole  horizon.  Meanwhile  my  companions 
lay  down  and  snored,  and  I  was  glad  to  sit  alone  face 
to  face  with  these  royal  mountain  giants.  The  whole 
architecture  is  fantastically  wild,  and  the  only  law  which 
is  strictly  obser\al  is  that  each  glacier  is  confined  between 
two  huge  black  crests  of  rock. 

In  order  to  give  the  reader  a  notion  of  the  scene  I 
here  reproduce  a  [art  of  the  panorama  embracing  the 
Kubi  gangri  (Illustration  242).  To  the  south,  27°  K.,  is  a 
tetrahedral  peak,  which  our  guide  called  Xgoma-dingding. 
To  the  south,  11°  E.,  rises  another  summit,  of  almost 
precisely  the  .same  form,  which  is  called  Absi.  On  the 
east  of  it  lies  the  Xgoma-dingfling  glacier,  and  on  the 
west  the  .Xbsi  glacier.  West  of  this  .stands  the  lumpy 
Mukchung  simo  group,  with  its  culminating  point  lying 
south,  24°  W.  The  northern  side  resembles  a  stable  with 
straight  short  stalls,  each  containing  a  small  hanging 
glacier.  To  the  south-west  rise  two  sharp  pinnacles,  and 
in  the  south  57°  W.  a  couple  of  dome-shai)ed  summits  con- 
sisting only  of  ice  and  snow;  they  Ix'long  to  the  Langta- 
chen  massive,  and  their  firns  feed  to  a  great  extent  the 
glacier  in  tln'  front  of  which  the  Brahmaputra  takes  its  rise. 
So  the  glai  ier  mav  Ik-  called  the  Langta-chen.  To  the 
south.  70'^  W.,  88°  \V  .  and  north,  83°  W.,  rise  the  summits 


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SOURCE   OF   THK   SACRKD    KIVKR 


«o3 


of  the  Gavc-tinp  ^Tf^up.  To  the  north.  55°  W..  three  peaks  of 
the  Dongdonj;  appear,  from  whii  h  one  of  thi-  ^our(•es  of  the 
Hrahmaputra  takes  its  rise,  (juite  insignitieant  compared 
to   the    Kul)i  tsanj,'|K). 

Towards  tlie  nortli-east  the  sharply  defined  valley  of 
the  Kuhi-tsan^po  runs  downwards,  and  in  the  distance 
are  seen  the  mountains  of  Chanj;  tanj,',  j.yramidal  peaks 
of  singular  uniformity,  and  crow<ie<l  togrlhcr  in  great 
numlxTs,  which  form'  a  finc-ly  jagged  horizon,  and  in 
consecjuence  of  the  great  ilistanee  mirge  into  the  pink  tint 
of  the  insignificant  snowficlds.  'I'he  Trans  Himalaya  seems 
on    this   side   to   widen  out   and   Ix-come  llaller   than  in  the 

east. 

It  was  late  when  we  rode  down  the  steep  path  to  the 
camp  on  the  Dongdong.  And  now  we  had  to  hurry  west- 
wards and  make  as  many  discoveries  and  collect  as  much 
information  as  j)osMl)le  on  forbidden  paths,  in  spite  cif  the 
Mandarins  and   the   Devashung. 

On  July   15  we  left   our   former   route   to   the   right   and 
directed     our    stei)s    northwards    over     intricate     moraines, 
seeing  the  snowy  ])eaks  of  Dongdong  and  Chema-yundung 
still   more   clearly   from   the   pass   Kargan-la.     On   the    i6th 
the  sky  was  overcast,  a  coui)le  of  hail  showers  fell,  and  the 
hills  around    us    changed    to    white.     We    nxle    north-west- 
wards  past   two  small    lakes,   and    again    fell   in    with    solid 
rock  —  green  and  black  schist.     From  the  Tugri-la  we  had  a 
fine  view  over  a  world  of  mountains,  the  names  of  which  I  have 
no  time  to  record.    We  crossed  another  siuldle,  Sen  Kamlxi  la, 
to  reach  the  broad  open  valley  of  the  Chema-yundung  river, 
which  descends  from  a  very  extensive  glacier  in  the  south 
belonging   to    the   Chema-yundung-i)u    massive.     Here   w^re 
several  nomad  tents,  and  'seven  tents  inhal)ited  by  pilgrims 
from    Bongba    stood   on   a   rise.     They   were   on    their   way 
with  kith  and  kin  to  Kang-riniK)che  to  make  the  pilgrimage 
round   the  holy  mountain.     Most  of  the   pilgrims  from  the 
far    cast    take    this    southern    route    and    return    over    the 
Marium-la. 

July  17.  It  was  verv  hot  in  the  saddle  with  a  temper- 
ature {')f  50°  and  quite 'calm  air.  The  brown  puppy  \yas 
very  tired   of   travelling   and   drops   fell   from   her   hangmg 


I04 


TRANS  HIMALAYA 


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'» I 


t'in<,'uc,  l)iit  slic  (oiilil  not  leave  the  antelopes  and  hares  in 
peaie.  She  d.irted  after  them  full  s|)ee(l.  hut  never  iauj,'ht 
them,  and  laiiir  I  nick  to  me  disipiMiinted,  hut  Ix-^an  again 
the  u^eie>>  pur-uit.  The  Uonggak  dm  is  an  allluent  of 
tl\i'  C'hema,  and  comes  from  tlie  north  west.  We  left  the 
littli'  douliU'  lake  Kuru  ( hok  in  the  south.  To  tlu'  west 
soutli  we^t  is  tlie  place  where  the  Chema  yundung  reteivc-s 
the  Anglic  hu,  the  most  westerly  of  all  the  headwaters  of 
the    Mralimai)Ulra. 

In  the  valley  of  the  'IVnrhung  we  encamped  lH--ide 
some  ace omnKMlating  nomads,  who  c|ui(  kly  procured  me 
fresh  yak^,  for  tlie  three  musketeers  turned  hack  here  to 
Shamsang,  after  cloing  their  work  well.  Th.e  whole 
excursion  to  the  sources  of  the  Hrahmajjutra  had  cost 
iio  rupees,  and  it  was  well  worth  more.  The  natives 
said  that  ten  rohhers  had  recently  made  the  neighlK)ur- 
hood  unsafe,  1)Ut  immediately  it  was  reporud  that  a 
I'Airopean  caravan  was  ajiproaching  Tynchung,  they  had 
entirely  disai)peared,  aiicl  therefore  we  were  regarded  as 
deliverers,  and  the  people  could  not  do  too  much  for  us. 
A  Hindu  merchant  from  Almora  was  camping  here, 
huying  sheep's  wool  and  salt  from  the  nomads,  and 
.selling  them  frie/e  rugs  and  textiles  from  Agra  and 
.\mritsar. 

Next  day  we  crossed  the  Marnyak  la  (i7,3C)5  feet) 
and  had  the  \ngsi-clui  immediately  helow  us,  and  on  the  19th 
we  left  the  river  hehind  and  followed  its  small  trihutary 
the-  I.oang-gonga  up  to  its  .source  at  the  very  low  pass 
Taml  mg  or  Tag  la,  which  is  nothing  more  than  a  rise 
in  an  open  longitudinal  valley.  Hut  this  pass  is  exceed- 
ingly important,  for  it  is  the  watershed  hetween  the 
Hrahmaputra  and  Manasarowar.  Its  height  is  17,382  feet. 
To  the  south  is  .s])reacl  out  a  succession  of  snowy  j)eaks, 
and  to  the  west -south- west  is  scrn  CJurla  Mandatta  cjr 
Memcnani,  a  majestic  and  imposing  group  which  helongs 
to  the-  .same  Ilim:  '  \yan  range  as  Kubi-gangri.  The  pa.ss 
is  situated  among  old  moraines,  where  is  the  little 
in>ignil'icant  lake  Tamlung-tso,  from  which  the  Loang- 
g. )nga  Hows  out.  .\t  some  distance  to  the  south  is  seen 
the   low   watershed   between   the   Angsi-chu   and   the   Gang- 


XLIII 


SOLKCK   OF    rilK   .S.\Cki:i>   klVKK 


lo; 


lunj^,    a    stream    that    romr--    fr.itn   a    massivt-   <>f    tin*    samt- 
natnc,   and.   as   tin-    T.i^'  t^.inj^iMi,    falls   into    M  in.is.irowar 
The     very     lati>t     m.ip^    of     western     'I'ilHl     ^;i\e     a     very 
incorrect    representatinn    of    this    (ountry.   whii  h    has    never 
Ix-en    vi^!!e<i    Ijy   a    MurojicMn    iMt'dre      In>tf,i'l    of   a    ile.irly 
marked   meridional   ranj^e  we  found   an  open,  hilly,   lon^jitu 
dinal    valley    with    the    w.ilerslird     running;    amon^    its    mo 
raines.      Here    we    took    leave    of    the     IJrahni.ipiitra,    after 
passinj^  half  a   year  in   its   ha^in    sin(  e  ( ro^^in^  the  Sela  la. 
We  encamped  at  a  place  where  the  ( Jan>^  liinij  river  breaks 
throuf^h   a  rampart   of  moraines,   I'ormin^  foaming  cascades. 
Durinf^    the    following    day's    journey    it    Hows    tlirou^;h 
f^ranitic    moraines,    driftsmd,    and    morasses,    and    luHomcs 
a    considerable    stream,    receiving;    numiroiis    aftluents    from 
the    .south.     \    caravan    of    50    \aks    and    eii^ht    ;nin    from 
Purang,  armed   with  ^uns,  and  dad   in   blue  with   fur  lined 
cloaks,  were  on   the  way  to  the   fair  in   Gyanima.     In   the 
district    Taj;ramo(  he,    where     we    bivouac  keil,     were     many 
nomads  and   beggars  with   staves  and    bundles  on   the   way 
to   the   holy   mountain.      We  also   met    six   merchants   from 
Ladak,    who   were    carrying   dried    peaches    for    sale    on    45 
asses.     They  had  left  home  a  month  and  a  half  ])revioUsly. 
On   July   21    we  rode  down   tlie  Tage-buj)   valley  among 
savage    dilTs.      On     its     bottom     Hows     the     Tagetsangpo, 
changing  its  colour   from   light  green  over  sandy  ground   to 
bluish-purp' •    over    dark    detritus.      Langchen-kamba    is    a 
small    side-valley    on    the    right,    from    which    robbers    are 
wont    to    sidly    forth    against    clefencele>s    tr.ivellers.     Ju.st 
below   the   valley   a   .si)ring  bubbles  forth   with   crystal   clear 
water  at  a  temperature  of  38°.     It  is  considered  holy,  and 
is  marked  by  a  pcjle  bedecked  with  rags  and  .streamers  like 
a   scare-crow.     This  spring  is  alstj  called    Langchen-kamba. 
A   little    farther   down   the    spring   Chakko   stands   on   a 
steej)    .slope    cm    the    right    bank,    and    its    water   (40.3°)  is 
collected    in   a   round   pit   3   feet   deep.      A   wall   is  erected 
about    it,    covered    with    flat    stones,    on    which    figures    of 
Buddha  and  holy  texts  are  carved.     Leaves  from  the  holy 
scriptures  are  thrust   between   I  lie    stones   of   the   wall,   and 
streamers  and   rags   fl}-   from   a   pole.     Through   the   water, 
clear  as  a  mirror,  could   be  seen   blue  and  red   beads,  two 


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MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

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1 1 


inferior  turquoises,  some  shells,  and  other  trash,  thrown  in 
as  olTerings  by  pious  pilgrims.  The  water  is  supposed  to 
have  miraculous  powers.  Murmuring  prayers,  (nir  guide 
filled  a  w(jo(lcn  bowl  with  water  and  })oured  it  over  the 
head  and  mane  of  his  horse  to  protect  it  from  wolve. 
With  the  same  object  he  tied  a  rag  from  the  pole  on  to 
his  horse's  forelock.  lie  drank  himself  a  good  draught- 
to  render  him  invulnerable  to  the  bullets  of  robber^ 
If  a  sheejj  or  other  animal  is  ill  it  is  only  necessary  to 
sprinkle  it  with  the  holy  water  to  make  it  well  again. 
When  a  traveller  or  j)llgrim  stands  at  the  well  and  pours 
water  with  both  hands  over  his  head,  it  guards  him 
against  falling  into  the  hands  of  foot-pads,  and  from  other 
misfortunes.  And  if  he  sits  and  meditates,  drinks,  and 
washes  his  head,  hands,  and  legs,  and  has  sufficient  faith, 
then  he  finds  gold  coins  and  precious  stones  at  the  bottom 
of  the  well.  The  sick  man  who  bathes  his  whole  body 
in  the  miraculous  water  becomes  strong  again.  It  is  a 
Lourdes  in  miniature.  While  my  men  were  engaged  in 
their  ablutions  I  sat  at  the  edge  of  the  well  and  listened  to 
the  mystical  music  of  the  fluttering  prayer-streamers,  and 
found  this  fascinating  Tibet  more  enigmatical  at  every 
step. 

Then  we  rode  over  the  Tage-tsangpo,  where  its  valley 
opens  into  the  flat  basin  of  Manasarowar  —  a  new  chapter 
in  the  chronicles  of  our  journey.  Again  Gurla  Mandatta 
showed  itself  in  all  its  glory,  and  in  the  north-west  Kang- 
rinpoche  or  Kailas,  the  holy  mountain,  like  a  great 
chhorten  on  a  lama's  grave,  rose  above  the  jagged  ridge 
which  forms  the  horizon  in  that  direction.  On  seeing  it 
all  our  men  suddenly  jumped  out  of  their  saddles  and 
threw  themselves  down  with  their  foreheads  on  the  ground. 
Only  Rabsang,  a  confirmed  heathen,  remained  seated  on 
his  horse,  and  was  afterwards  well  scolded  by  Tsering. 

We  are  now  out  on  open  hilly  ground,  and  see  a  glimpse 
of  the  holy  lake  Tso-mavang  or  Manasarowar.  We  en- 
camp by  a  small  lake  called  Tso-nyak,  whither  come  Islam 
Ahun  and  Shukkur  Ali,  sent  by  Guffaru,  who  is  become 
uneasy  at  our  long  absence.  We  send  them  back  again 
to    Tokchcn    with    orders    lu    GulTaru    to    proceed    to    the 


.ss»ia.-«a«s^: 


;i 


:  ^ 


-Mi.  -'15.       I  III     MiiiNiMN--    \i    nil.   Smikci.  .11     iHi.    llr  \ll\i  \i'L  1  k  x. 


<^*'  v"     "  .  --'■v-t-'.^'^' 


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s. 


xun 


SOURCE   OF   THE  SACRED   RIVER 


107 


monastery    Scrolung-gompa    on    the    holy    lake,    where    we 
will  meet  him. 

On  July  22  wc  rode  over  the  Tage-tsangpo,  which  here 
carried    291    cubic    feet    of    water,    where    Rabsang    got    a 
thorough    wetting    in    consequence    of    his    horse    coming 
a   cropper   among   the   boulders   in   the   bed.     Tscring   said 
that  he  deserved  a  dip  because  he  had  not  saluted   Kang- 
rinpoche.      Camp    210    was    set    up    in    the    broad    valley 
Namarding,    where    a    clear    brook     flows    to     the    Tage- 
tsangpo.      The    wind    blew    strongly,    and     the    Tibetans 
said    that    the   waves   on    Tso-mavang   were    as   high    and 
dark    as    nomad    tents.     Should    we    venture    in    our    little 
canvas  boat    on    the   lake,   exposed    to   all    the   winds?     It 
must   be   very   rough   before   I   consented    to   give   up   the 
trip,  for  the  lake  had  long  Ixjcn  the  subject  of  my  dreams. 
Next  morning  Tundup  Sonam  appeared  with  the  news 
that  the  Gova  of  Tokchen  would  not  let  his  yaks  on  hire 
for  the  journey  to  Serolung.     I   had   therefore  to  ride  to 
Tokchen  by  a  road  over  the  pass  Karbu-la,  and  down  the 
river  Samo-tsangpo ;  it   is  full  of  fish,  but  we  were  asked 
not  to  disturb  them,  for  they  came  up  from  the  holy  lake. 
We  were  all  together  again  in  Tokchen,  and  I  found  the 
Gova   a    decent    fellow,    who   welcomed    me    with   a   large 
kadakh  and  a  bowl  of  tsamba. 

Now  an  hour  of  parting  was  come,  for  I  sent  from 
Tokchen  thirteen  of  my  men  home  to  Ladak.  I  had 
several  reasons  for  this.  I  did  not  need  so  many  men 
in  western  Tibet;  twelve  were  enough,  and  a  small  light 
caravan  accomplishes  more  and  does  not  e.xcite  so  much 
notice.  The  men  were  to  travel  along  the  great  highway 
to  Gartok  under  the  experienced  leadership  of  GufTaru,  and 
there  deposit  all  the  baggage  I  could  spare  with  the  British 
agent,  Thakur  Jai  Chand.  I  also  sent  to  him  a  letter 
packet  of  three  hundred  pages  to  my  parents,  beside  other 
correspondence.  Of  particular  importance  was  a  letter  to 
Colonel  Dunlop  Smith,  in  which  I  asked  for  6000  rupees, 
provisions,  books,  revohcrs  and  ammunition,  and  things 
suitable  for  presents,  such  as  gold  and  silver  watches,  as 
well  as  all  the  letters  which  must  have  accumulated  at  the 
Viceregal  Lodge. 


S  i 


^^tfmi^^r'::  '^-^m^m  ^^  r 


108 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP 


h\ 


^,i    t 


h      I 


li   i' 


On  the  first  evening,  when  I  called  together  all  the 
twenty-five  men  and  told  them  my  decision  to  send  away 
thirteen  and  asked  which  of  them  wished  to  go  home,  no 
one  answered.  They  declared  that  they  would  follow  me 
until  I  was  tired  of  Tibet.  Then  I  picked  out  thirteen 
and  retained  the  best  twelve  men.  Among  these  was 
Tashi,  who  with  Tundup  Sonam  had  accomplished  the 
adventurous  journev  to  Shigatse.  But  when  he  saw  that 
I  was  in  earnest  about  the  dividing  of  the  caravan,  he 
begged  me  to  let  him  go  home,  so  he  was  exchanged   for 

another  man.  . 

\Vc   stayed   here  two  days  to  put  everything    in   order. 
After  the  baggage  was   rearranged   I    had  only  four  bo.xes 
left   and    the    rest    were    to    be    carried    away    by    Guffaru. 
Robert    sat    in    my    tent    like    a    money-changer    and    piled 
up    sovereigns     and     rupees     in     small     heaps,    the     pay, 
gratuities,  and    travelling    expenses    of    the    men    who    were 
going   home.     Our   treasury   was   relieved   of    21 18    rupees 
all  at  once.      The    important  correspondence  was  enclosed 
in  a  case,  which  Guffaru  carried  in  his  belt.    The  men  with 
him  were  allowed  to  keep  two  of  our  five  guns.    Late  in 
the   evening   GutTaru  came   to   my   tent   to   receive   his   last 
instructions.     Honest   old    GulTaru,  he   had   in   the   autumn 
of  his  life  performed  wonders  in  the  winter  in  Chang-tang, 
alwavs  composed  and  contented,  always  doing  his  duty  in 
the  smallest  particular.     Now  he  sat,  with  the  tears  falling 
on  to  his  white  beard,  and  thanked  me  for  all  I  had  done 
f>r  him  during  the  past  year.     I  bade  him  weep  no  more 
but  rejoice  that  the  hard  time  was  over  for  him,  and  that 
he   could    return   safe   and    sound    to   his   people   with   400 
rupees  in  his  purse.     When  we  left  Leh  he  was  as  poor  as 
a  church  mouse,  and  now  he  was  a  rich  man  for  his  position, 
anfl   he   had   not   needed    his   shroud.    I   told   him   that   I 
should  miss  him  vcrv  much,  but  that  I  could  not  entrust 
the  valuable   baggage  and   important   letters   to   any  other 

hands  but  his.  , 

When  I  came  out  of  mv  tent  early  on  the  morning  ot 
the  26th  the  thirteen  yaks  were  laden  and  the  thirteen  men 
wtic  readv  to  march  off  with  their  Tiln-tan  guides.  _  T 
thanked    them   for   their   faithfulness   and    patience   during 


.'i 


i 


XLIII 


SOURCE   OF   THE  SACKED   RIVER  109 


the  time  when  they  were  exposed  to  so  many  dangers  m 
my  service,  lK>g<;c(l  them  to  rememljcr  that  they  were 
responsible  for  the  caravan  on  the  way  home,  and  told 
them  that  thev  must  obey  Guffaru,  aisd  that  their  character 
would  suffer  i'f  they  did  not  Ix-ar  with  one  another  on  the 
way  If  they  were  as  conscientious  on  this  journey  as  m 
my 'service,  it  would  be  well  for  them  in  the  future, 
and  perhaps  our  paths  might  cross  again. 

Then  old  Guffaru  came  forward,  and  fell  on  his  knees 
before  me,  weeping  loudly,  and  all  the  others  in  turn 
followed  hir.  example  amid  sobs  and  tears;  I  clapped 
them  all  on  the  shoulder  and  hoped  that  this  bitter  hour 
would  soon  be  over.  Then  they  took  leave  of  their 
comrades,  who,  deeply  moved,  sent  greetings  to  their  par- 
ents, wives,  and  children  in  Ladak,  and  they  naarched 
off  on  foot,  as  they  had  travelled  so  many  hundred  miles, 
silent,  drooping,  and  downcast,  and  soon  disappeared  be- 
hind the  hills. 


k^ "J  - 


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ir 


\v 


1 1 


■f 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

A  NIGHT  ON  MANASAROWAR 

fir  the  services  he  had  rendered  us,  and  al  the  other 
Tbetans  X  had  been  friendly  and  helpful  recaved 
nresent?  The  dividing  of  the  caravan  had  also  the 
advantairc  that  the  Tibetans  supposed  that  we  were  all 
makTng  or  the  same  destination  by  different  routes  and 
Tat  T  should  join  Guffaru  in  Gartok  and  continue  my 
journey  to  Ladak,  as  directed  on  the  passport. 

With  Robert,  Rabsang,  and  two  Tibetans  J  "o^.  th^ 
down   the   Tokchen   valley   and    up   o-r   f  e   1.1b  ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

.u        »     T^  «liP  rirrht  of  our  route  the  turquoise  uiuc 

ruracrS'thl  hdy  lake  is  di'splayed;  how  beautiful,  how 
surface  ot  me  roy  ^  ^^    ^^^^^^^    ^^^^ 

S'  nl  ea^sil  on'Ss  a  pleasure  in  life  one  longs  to 
ovace  over  the  blue  depths  and  the  sacred  waves  For 
M^nasarowar  is  the  holiest  and  most  famous  of  all  the 
lies  of  the  world,  the  goal  of  the  pilgrimage  of  innumer- 
It  iSous  Hjncius',  a  lake  celebrated  in  ^e  most  -^^^^^ 
religious  hymns  and  songs,  and  in  its  f^'^J  ;^^t^^=;^^ 
■ishes  of  Hindus  find  a  grave  as  desirable  and  honourea 
fin  the  turbid  waters  of  the  Ganges.  During  m^y  s^ay 
•"  i^Air,  T  rproivod  letters  iroin  Hmaus  m  -.viiKu  i-'- ) 
L"kSt.  toTxptec  thravcrcl  lake  ami  the  holy  moun- 

no 


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CHAP.  xLiv       A  NIGHT  ON  MANASAROWAR 


III 


tain  Kailas,  which  lifts  its  summit  in  the  north  under  a 
cujx)la  of  eternal  snow,  where  Siva,  one  of  the  Indian 
Trinity,  dwells  in  her  paradise  amonp  a  host  of  other 
deities;  and  they  told  me  that  if  I  could  give  them  an 
exact  description  of  the  lake  and  river,  they  would 
remember  me  in  their  prayers  and  their  gods  would  bless 
me.  But  that  was  not  why  I  longtxl  to  Ix;  there.  The 
lake  had  never  lx;en  s<junde<l  —  I  would  sink  my  lead  to 
the  bottom  and  make  a  map  of  its  bed ;  I  would  follow 
its  periphery  and  calculate  how  much  water  iK)urs  into 
its  bosom  on  a  summer  day;  I  would  investigate  its 
hydrographic  relation  to  the  adjacent  lake  on  the  west, 
the  Rakas-tal,  a  problem  which  various  travt-llers  in  this 
region,  from  Moorcmft  and  Strachey  to  Ryder  and 
Rawling,  have  explained  difTerently;  I  would  learn  some- 
thing of  the  monasteries  and  the  life  of  Hindu  and  Tibetan 
pilgrims,  for  the  lake  is  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  Lamaists 
also,  who  call  it  Tso-mavang  or  Tso-rinpoche,  the  "Holy 
Lake."  How  can  Manasarowar  and  Kailas  be  the  ob- 
jects of  divine  honours  from  two  religions  so  different  as 
Hinduism  and  Lamaism  unless  it  is  that  their  over- 
powering beauty  has  appealed  to  and  deeply  impressed 
the  human  mind,  and  that  they  seemed  to  belong  rather 
to  heaven  than  to  earth?  Even  the  first  view  from  the 
hills  on  the  shore  caused  us  to  burst  into  tears  of  joy  at 
the  wonderful  magnificent  landscape  and  its  surpassing 
beauty.  The  oval  lake,  somewhat  narrower  in  the  south 
than  the  north,  and  with  a  diameter  of  about  15^  miles, 
lies  like  an  enormous  turquoise  embedded  loetween  two 
of  the  finest  and  most  famous  mountain  giants  of  the 
world,  the  Kailas  in  the  north  and  Guria  Mandatta  in  the 
south,  and  between  huge  ranges  above  which  the  two 
mountains  uplift  their  crowns  of  bright  white  eternal  snow. 
Yes,  already  I  felt  the  strong  fascination  which  held  me 
fettered  to  the  banks  of  Manasarowar,  and  I  knew  that 
I  would  not  willingly  leave  the  lake  before  I  had  listened 
until  I  was  weary  to  the  song  of  its  waves. 

We  sat  an  hour  and  enjoyed  the  incomparable  beauty 
of  the  scene.  A  slight  ripple  ruffled  the  surface  of  the 
water,  but  in  the  middle  the  lake  was  as  smooth  as  if  oil 


m 


TRANS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


li.' 


T| 


J  I. 


112 

1  ■.       111..   'I'ilKtaiis   said    that    it    was 

alwavs  smooth   m   tlic    mvl\W   ^x'^i't    '\''\W,.^,„    tin-    twc. 
To   the   -uthsouthwpt   an     ..uh..^^^^^^  ^^, 

I  he      IilK-tans     cant  I       m>.  j    snowy 

sometimes    Memo  nan.      Sou  h.    Oo     ^^ .^   '^ "       ^,^^,     ,,J. 

height.     ri.e     '-'-''   /'-.^r^'an;^^'  lull    where   Chiu- 
northwe>t    is    ^^'^^    ^^^^  "'\ ". '"  .^aer    channel    whieh 

M<,untain,"    dominates    \hc      oruon    unk  s    .t.  ^^     ^^^^ 

to  Chang  tang  ^^.^^^^^  ^^^    .  ^j^^^^^t  of  a  l)oat 

When  I  -^^^^  '  ^^"\^^.^.  ^j,,,vered  unhesitatingly  that  it 
trip  across  he  ^'^l^  ;  ^'^^^^.j^^  ,,,„t,„,a  ..n  the  lake,  which 
was  impossible,    mortals  %mij  ^         ^  ^j^^ 

was    the    home    of    the    goes,  ^^^'J''^^\^  ,horc,  but 
mid.lle    Tso-mavang    was    not    Ic  cl    as    on  ^^^^^ 

fo.^ed  a  t--;-^J^--^^^^^L:Sl^  getting    the 

::^^^:^a^s:!  n^^^it^ '^^^ 

^'^^^^mounted  again  and  rcxle  somK^south-we^  ov.r 
the  hills  to  Serolung.  ^h^_«<•Slen  in' '  tl  hollow, 
monastery  Serolung  gompa  ^^^.^^^^^j^^^"  ,^5  and  notes. 
There    I    staved    four    ^ours     making    sketche.      ^ 

,vce   a-.-.av    -■••"■•^,^.  -  -  t    ,i|,e     precious    ^loncs    m 


1/ 


XMV 


A    NKlIir   <»N'    MANASAKOWAR 


1 1 


h.„H-   of   arc.uiriiiK    m.rit    in   a    future    form   of   cxistinci-.  ..f 
Ixin^.'  fnrd  from  the  l-unkn  of  sin  and   tlic  torturi>  of  pur 
^atorial    tlrrs.    nav.    iur:iai)S.    of   sitting    at   tli.'    Irtt   of  thf 
mMJs  ami   catinu  is,iml>,i   out   of  golden    Inmls. 

Our  (.ain|i  NO-  -'"-'  ^^'i^  pitdud  imnu-diatily  south 
of  tlu'  nioutli  of  tlu'  Serolung  valley  at  the  water's  edge. 
'Ilie  strip  of  <;round  on  the  hank  i>  (\u\U-  narrow,  and  on 
the  hilU  rising'  to  the  ea>t  of  it  are  vi^lile  six  horizontal 
strand  lines,  the  hiuhe>t  lying  162  feet  ahove  the  present 
kvel  of  the  lake,  which  is   i.s,ogS  fet't  alK.ve  the  sea. 

On    July    27    I    had    a   ^kkI    >Ke]).    and   spent    the    rest 
of    the    dav    in    making    preparations    for    the    hrst    line   of 
soundings, 'whic'i  was  to  cross  the  lake  in  a  direction  south. 
cn°\V.,    where    a    ga|.    appeared    in    the    hills    framing    the 
i'lke      We    waited    for    go<xl    weather,    but    the    wind    l)lew 
violJntlv  and   the  surf   l)eat  and   foamed   against   the  shore. 
I  therefore  resolved  to  wait  till  night,  for  of  late  the  nights 
hafl   l)een   calmer   than    the  days.     On   a   trial    trip   we   had 
found  u  depth  of    no  feet   not   far  from   the  shore,   so  wc 
made  rcadv  a  sounding   line  490   feet  long.     Perhaps  even 
this   would'  not   be    long   enough,    for   a   lake   lying   among 
such    high    mountains    is    sure    to    be    deep.     Shukkur    All 
was   to   go    with    me.    and    he    accepted    his    fate   with   his 
usual    composure,    but    Rehim    Ali.    the    other    victim     was 
frightened ;    it  was   all   very   well   in   the  day.   he  said,   but 
in    the    dark    gloomv    night    on    such    a    great    lake.     \\e 
should     certainly    have     the    same     trouble     as     on     Lake 
Lighten,    he    thought.  11 

When  the  sun  set  the  wind  increased  in  strength,  and 
heavy  clouds  spread  up  from  the  south-west.  At  seven 
o'clock  it  was  pitch  dark  all  round,  not  a  star  shone  out. 
not  a  trace  was  visible  of  the  outline  of  the  shore  and 
of  the  snowv  mountains,  and  the  sea  was  buried  in  the 
shades  of  night.  But  an  hour  later  the  wind  fell,  the 
air  became  quite  calm,  but  the  waves  beat  in  a  monotonous 
rhythm  on  the  bank.  The  smoke  of  the  camp  f^res  rose 
straight  up  into  the  air. 

then    I    gave    orders    to    set    out.     The    baggage    was 

sioweii    ana    tne    mast   stepjjea    tu    ijv   rtao_r    a    ••'    - 

favourable    wind.     Provisions    for    two    days    were    put    in 

VOL.   II  ' 


\i 


m 


•■ii 


i^s:mm^^^^^^!^mw--mm 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CRAP. 


I*     ' 


r 
L 

h 


h^  •) 


hi 


114 

the  ')oat  I  wore  a  leathern  vest,  Kashmir  boots,  and  an 
Indian  helmet,  and  sat  on  a  cushion  and  a  folded  fur  coat 
on  the  lee  side  of  the  rudder,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
the  sounding  line  with  its  knots  lay  ready  on  the  gunwale. 
The  lot;,  Lyth's  current  meter,  was  attached  to  the  boat  to 
register  the  whole  length  of  the  course,  and  compass,  watch 
note-book,  and  map  sheets  all  lay  close  beside  me,  lighted 
by  a  Chinese  paper  lantern,  which  could  be  covered  with 
a  towel  when  we  did  not  want  the  light.  I  used  the  towel 
after  every  sounding  to  dry  my  hands.  Rehim^  Ah  took 
his  seat  forward,  Shukkur  Ali  in  the  stern  half  of  the  boat, 
where  we  were  cramped  for  room  and  had  to  take  care 
that  we  did  not  get  entangled  in  the  sounding-line. 

Tsering  took  a  sceptical  view  of  the  whole  adv'enture 
He  said  that  the  lake  was  'ull  of  wonders,  and  at  the  best 
we  should  bo  driven  back  by  mysterious  powers  when  we 
had"  rowed  a  little  way  out.  And  a  Tibetan  agreed  with 
him,  saving  that  we  shoukl  never  reach  the  western  sho  c 
though  we  rowed  with  all  our  might,  for  the  la':e  god  would 
hold  our  boat  fast,  and  while  we  thought  that  it  was  advanc- 
ing it  woukl  really  remain  on  the  same  spot,  and  finally  the 
anlrrv  god  would  draw  it  down  to  the  bottom. 

Robert  had  orders  to  wait  at  camp  No.  212  for  our 
return,  and  when  we  put  off  from  the  bank  at  nine  o  clock 
all  bade  us  farewell  in  as  warm  and  gentle  a  tone  as 
though  thev  thought  that  ihey  had  seen  the  last  of  us 
Their  spiriis  were  not  raised  by  the  lightning  which 
flashed  in  the  south  and  might  portend  a  storm.  1  he 
darkness,  however,  was  not  so  intense,  for  the  moon  was 
coming  up,  though  it  was  still  covered  by  the  hills  rising 
behind  our  camp  But  its  light  threw  a  weird  gleam  over 
the  lake,  and  in  the  south  Gurla  Mandatta  rose  like  a 
ghost  enveloped  in  a  sheet    of    moonshine,    snowfields,  and 

^^'^'\T  mv  command  the  l)oatmen  took  a  f\rm  grip  of  the 
oars  and"  the  boat  glided  out  from  the  beach,  where  our 
men  stoo<l  in  a  silent  thoughtful  group.  Our  fires  were 
.cen  for  a  while,  but  soon  disappeared,  for  they^were  burn- 
in"  almost  on  a  level  with  the  water,  k.-ncrt  lum  me  after- 
wards that  the  little  boat  sailing  out  into  the  darkness  was 


XLIV 


A  NIGHT  ON   MANASAROWAR 


iif) 


a  curious  sight;  owing  to  tlir  lantern  and  the  reflexion 
of  the  light  on  the  ma>t  the  lx)at  was  visible  at  first, 
but  when  it  reached  the  moon  lighted  part  of  the  lake 
it    appeared     only    as    a    small     black    spot,    which     soon 

vanished. 

The  great  lake  was  dark  and  mysterious  in  the  night, 
and  unknown  depths  lurked  Uneath  us.  The  contours  of 
the  hills  on  the  shore  were  still  visible  Ix'hind  us,  but  we 
had  not  gone  far  Ixfore  they  were  swallowed  up  by 
higher  mountains  farther  off,  which  gradually  came  into 
view.  After  twenty  minutes'  rowing  we  stopped  and  let 
down  the  line,  sounding  135  feet.  The  roar  of  the  surf 
on  the  beach  was  the  only  sound  in  the  silence  of 
night,  except  the  splash  of  the  oars  and  the  voices  of  the 
oarsmen  singing  in  time  with  their  strokes.  At  the  next 
sounding  the  depth  was  141  feet.  If  the  bottom  did  not 
fall  more  rapiilly  our  line  would  be  long  enough.  Every 
hour  I  ?orded  the  temperatures  of  the  air  and  the  water. 
Now  the  god  of  sleeo  paid  us  a  visit;  Shukkur  Ali  yawned 
at  every  ninth  stroke,  and  every  yawn  was  so  long  that  it 
lasti.'d  three  strokes. 

The  AT  is  quite  still.  A  long,  smooth  swell  causes 
the  boai  to  rock  slightly.  All  is  quiet,  ar.v!  I  ask  myself 
involuntarily  if  other  beings  are  listening  to  the  splash 
of  the  oars  as  well  as  ourselves.  It  is  warm,  with 
a  temperature  of  46.9°  at  eleven  o'clock.  The  next  two 
depths  are  143  and  164  feet.  My  oarsmen  follow  the 
soundings  with  deep  interest,  and  look  forward  to  the 
point  where  the  depth  will  begin  to  decrease.  They  thirik 
it  awful  and  uncanny  to  glide  over  such  great  depths  in 
the  dark  night.  Again  blue  lightning  flashes  behind  Gurla 
Mandatta,  which  stands  forth  in  a  pitch-black  outline,  after 
appearing  just  before  in  a  white  rolx;  of  moonlighted 
snowfields.  A  Httle  later  all  the  southern  sky  flames  up 
like  a  sea  of  fire;  the  flashes  quickly  follow  one  after  the 
other,  and  shoot  up  to  the  zenith,  seeming  to  stay  a  moment 
behind  the  mountains,  and  it  lx;comes  light  as  day,  but 
when  the  glow  dies  out  the  darkness  is  more  intense,  and 
the  sublime,  poetic  solemnity  of  the  night  is  enhanced. 
By  the  light  of  the  flashes  i  can  see  the  faces  of  the  two 


III 


'  -if 


M 


iPl 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


(': 


' 


!'  I 


111 


ii6 

men    who  arc  startled  and  uneasy,  and  do  not  dare  to  dis- 
turb the  awful  stillness   l.v  their  sin^inj,'. 

When  1  let  down  the  line  at  the  tilth  i.oint,  the  two 
men  asked  permi^ion  to  light  their  .-^'^^'^'Jlf ",  Jlj^. 
(lenth      was      iSi      feet.      A      sh-ht      south  v.e>terl>     brcc/c 

i     led   the  surface.     Th-  cry  of  a  water-b.rd   broke  slm  ly 
oi'the  silence   of  the   nif^ht,   and   made  us   feel   less   lonel>^ 

\    sliuht    hi>s    of    the    surf    breakin-   on    the    south-ea>tern 
Ire 'was  audible.     In  the  south  the  clouds  ,athc^.d  round 

the  summit  of  Gurla  Mandatta,  the  breeze  fell.     We  glided 
low  V   over    the    inkv   black   water,   and    betwe-en    the    wave 

cre^t;   the   path   of   moonlight    wound    in    bright   sinuosities, 

thedei.th  increased  slowlv  183.4  feet,  189.3.   192,  and  212.6. 

The  Vempe^ature  was  still  45-9°,   and   I  did   not  want  my 

"^Thf  queen  of  night,   with  diamonds  in   her  dark   hair, 
looks   down    upon    the    holy    lake.     The    midnight    hour   is 
passed,  and  the  earlv  morning  hours  creej)  slowl>   on.     \\e 
scmml   203,   200.   184,   184.    180,  and   190  feet,  and  it  seems 
herefore  'as    if    we    had    passed    the    deepest    depressio  . 
Leaning   on    the   gunwale    I    enjoy  the  voyage    U.   the  full 
for  nothing  I  remember  in  my  long  wanderings  in  Asia  can 
ompare   with    the   overpowering    beauty   of    this    noc  urru. 
sail      I  seem  to  hear  the  gentle  but  powerful  beat  of    he 
great  heart  of  Nature,  its  pulsation  growmg  weaker  m  the 
arm     of   night,   and    gaining   fresh    vigour   in   the   glow   of 
he    morninS    red.     The    scene,   gradually   changing    as   the 
ours    go    by,    seems    to    belong    not    to    earth    but   to   the 
utermost    boundarv    of    unattainable  _  space     as    though    1 
"v  much  nearer  heaven,  the  misty  fairyland  of  dreams  and 
n  ac^ination,  of  hope  and  yearning,  than  to  the  earth  with 
is   mortals    its  ca^es,   its  sins,  and   its  vanity.      I  he   moon 
descHbl^   ils   arch  in   the  sky,  its   restless   rel  exion  ciuiver- 
ing  on  the  water,  and  broken  by  the  wake  of  the  boat. 

The  queen  of  night  and  her  robe  become  paler.  Ihc 
dark  skv  passes  into  light  blue,  and  the  morn  draws  nigh 
tm  th'e  \'ast.  There  is  a  faint  dawn  over  the  -ster^ 
mountains,  and    soon    thar  omhnes^^tand  ^  out  ^^sluir^.^  ^^ 

though  cut   <.ut  on    OiaCK   papel.      iuC  t.na \  ;;:   \„uiph 

in.'   white   over   the   lake,   as.sume   a   faint   rosy   hue,   which 


XLIV 


A  NIGHT   ON   MANASAROWAR 


117 


graduallv   grows   stronger,   and   is  roH  rtcd   on   the   smooth 
water,  calling  forth  a  garden  of  fresh  ruses.     We  row  among 
floating  rose-beds,   there  is  an  odour  of  mornmg  and  pure 
water   in    the   air,    it   grows   lighter,    the   landscape   regams 
its  colour,  and  the  new  dav,  July  28,  begins  its  triumphal 
progress  over  the  earth.     Only  an  inspired  pencil  and  magic 
colours  could  depict  the  scene  that  nut  my  eyes  when  the 
whole  country  lav  in   shadow,  and  only  the  highest  peaks 
of  Gurla  Mandatla  caught  the  first  gleam  of  the  rising  sun. 
In  the  growing  light  of  dawn  the  mountain,  with  its  snow- 
fields  and  glaciers,  had  shown  silvery  white  and  cold;    but 
now!     In    a    moment    the    extreme    points    of    the    summit 
began    to    glow    with    purple    like    li(iuid    gold.     And    the 
brilliant   illumination   crept   slowly  like  a   mantle  down   the 
flanks  of  the  mountain,  and  the  thin  white  morning  clouds, 
which  hovered  over  the  lower  slopes  and   formed   a  girdle 
round    a    well-defined    zone,    floating    freely    like    Saturn's 
ring,  and  like  it  throwing  a  shadow  on  the  fields  of  eternal 
snow,  these  too  assumed  a  tinge  of  gold  and  purple,  such 
as  no  mortal  can   describe.     The  colours,   at  first  as  light 
and   fleeting  as  those  of  a  young  maiden  in  her  ball   dress, 
became   more   pronounced,  "light   concentrated   itself  on   the 
eastern  mountains,  and  over  their  sharp  outlines  a  sheaf  of 
bright  rays  fell  from  the  upper  limb  of  the  sun  upon  the 
lake.     And    now    day    has    won    the    victory,    and     I    try 
dreamily   *o   decide   which    spectacle   has   made   the  greater 
impression  on  me,  the  quiet  moonlight,  or  the  sunrise  with 
its  warm,  rosy  gleam  on  the  eternal  snow. 

Phenomena  like  these  arc  fleeting  guests  on  the  earth; 
they  come  and  go  in  the  early  morning  hours,  they  are 
only  seen  once  in  a  lifetime,  they  are  like  a  greeting  from 
a  better  world,  a  flash  from  the  island  of  the  phoenix. 
Thousands  and  thousands  of  pilgrims  have  wanaered 
round  the  lake  in  the  course  of  centuries,  and  have  seen 
the  dawn  and  sunset,  but  have  never  witnessed  the  dis- 
I)lay  which  we  gazed  upon  from  the  middle  of  the  holy 
lake  on  this  memorable  night.  But  soon  the  magical 
effects  of  light  and  colour,  which  have  quickly  followed  one 
another  and  held  me  entranced,  fade  away.  The  country 
assumes   its   usual   aspect,   and   is  overshadowed   by   dense 


t^' 


{ 


^mm^-mmm 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


Hh 


I 


!  ) 


ii8 

,  ,  K.\U<,  and  Gurla  Mandatta  vanish  entirely,  and 
clouds.  ^^^^^'^^'7r_,  away  to  the  north-west  is  still  dyed 
only  a  snowy  crest  far  away  ^«  j     j   sunbeams  pene- 

a  deep  carmine,  only  .y^^^l'^'.^/f ".j,     in  that  direction 

trates  through  -JP^^'s   tinged  it !   but  to  the  south 

the    mirror    of   the    lake    is    unb^ 

'  Th.      wild-geese    j^^ve    w^aked    up     am      th  y  ^^^^ 

lard   cackling  on   their  3oyous  ^'^Jf  ^^^^^^^^  _^^^^ 

a  gull   or   tern   screams.     Lund  cs  o^    sea^  ^^^  , 

'^^H  %^X::Z^  ;  Ll^m^Ll^listurlUe  water. 
^^  a^ikT-thc  cleLest^^g.  -n.  W  mo^s 
^^.ith  weary  slowness  to  its  ^^'-^t;";;^^;^  ^.^^i  .^d  sleepy 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  7 J^'-^^J^  "  f^^''  '^y  sleep  and 
and  quite  at  an  end  of  ^^e"-  /trength^  1  n  y  H^^^^^ 
row  alternately.  jHcm-n.alv^^^^^^  calls^^  ^^^^^^.^^^^^ 
Ali,  accenting  the  ^f  fll\^;^  i,,t,veen,  and  the  oar 
S:  t'  tt'ain  Ms  'own  voice  ^vakes  him  up.  he  dips 
the  oar  in  and  goes  to  sleep  again.  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^ 

The   hours  pass  by,  bu     ^^^"''  ''  ^y.^hich  bank  is 
Hearing  our  destin^ition.    ^^e  ^nno    ^  -le^^^^^    ^^^.j,,, 

rr'^T'le'Usrof  Gurla    Mandatta   is   seen    a   huge 
ake.     In  the  midst  01  .y"''^  standing    out    pictur- 

deeply    eroded    ravine,    Us    '^'''^^\^^X^^^For  a  moment, 

T^'^^lfaToun  f  u:y"^S'ln1hadtv:-  the   interior  was 
when    all   around    uiy    uu  ^_„^„rited  a  fantastic  appear- 

Hghtca  up  l'y,'\7-,:,1„'oP   S  of  .he  gigantic  dome 
ancc.  rcscmbl  ng  a  1.   tal  mw  •>  ^^        „  „    and 

lightwl    up    hy    '""7'^"'*,^'"  a  ncrcnt    spurs    of     the 
erosion     channels     Ijetwcen     the    <t^  ^™j  J        „„  j^kc 

massive  are   *-Ply  d^fij^^;  ™    ^  ™  rgins  of  which 
among  (iat  cones  of  detruus,    nc  o  b    ^^^     ^^^.^ 

cause   the    var.at.ons   in    the   dq  th   o  ^^^^      ^^ 

now   increases  ^se  "nSU    he  1»  torn  temperature  is 

;w;tr?iM"^^^^ 

gr^rnoS  the  r,nSne;:r^;;adrthe  temper. 


i  ( 

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XLIV 


A  NIGHT  ON  MANASAROWAR 


119 


ature  of  the  surface  water  and  the  air  must  be  ascertained, 
and  the  log-reading  taken. 

Five  furlongs  to  the   north   the   smooth   swell   shows   a 
curious   fiery   yellow   colour,   and    I   cannot   make   out   the 
origin    of    this    singular    reflexion.     The    clouds    gather    in 
the   south-west,   and   a    breeze    sweeps   over    the    lake,   pro- 
ducing   waves    which    retard    still    more    the    progress    of 
the    boat.     Rchim    AH    cannot    keep    himself    awake    any 
longer,    and    Shukkur    Ali    is    very    comical    in    his    over- 
powering  sleepiness.     The   old    man   looks   like   a   weather- 
beaten  sea-dog  in  a  south  wester  —  his  Ladaki  cap  with  its 
spreading  flaps.     He  snoozes  innocently  with   his  oars   up, 
and  rows  again  and  again  in  the  air,  still  calling  out  his 
constant    "Shu-ba-la-la."     He    talks    in    his    sleep.     Rehim 
Ali  wakes  up  and  asks  him  what  is  the  matter,  and  no  one 
knows  what   it   is  all   about.     Towards  seven   o'clock   the 
dustman  pays  me  a  visit,  but  is  not  admitted.     Only  for 
a   moment   I   see   red   wild    asses   running   over   the   water, 
hear  harps  playing  sweetly  in  the  air,  and  behold  the  great 
black  head  of  a  sea-serpent  rise  above  the  waves  and  then 
sink  down   again;    green   dolphins   and   small   whales   arch 
their  backs  among  the  waves  —  but  no,  I  must  keep  awake, 
for  a  storm  may  come  down  upon  us  any  moment.    I  give 
my  boatmen  a  good  douche  with  the  hollow  of  my  hand, 
wash  my  own  hands  and  face,  and  order  breakfast  —  a  hard- 
boiled  goose   egg,   a  piece  of  bread,  and   a  bowl  of  milk, 
and  then  I  light  my  pipe  and  am  as  lively  again  as  a  lark. 
At    the  twentieth  sounding-place,  259  feet    deep,  the  other 
two  follow  my  example. 

At  nine  o'clock,  when  we  have  been  exacdy  twelve 
hours  on  the  water,  we  sound  a  depth  of  268.4  feet,  but 
the  south-western  shore  seems  to  our  eyes  as  far  off  as 
ever.  Rehim  Ali  thinks  it  is  awful  to  have  so  much  water 
under  the  keel.  The  clouds  on  Gurla  lift  a  little,  and  we 
see  deeper  into  the  recesses  of  the  great  valley  the  more 
we  come  opposite  its  mouth.  The  lower  ix)ints  of  the 
snowfields  come  into  sight  below  the  clouds.  West  of 
them  is  seen  a  broad  erosion  channel,  grey  with  detritus 
and  dotted  with  dark  brushwixxl.  The  water  reflects  the 
forms  of  the  mountains  like  a  mirror;    it  turns  blue  when 


I 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


II      ' 


<^'\ 


>!l 


120 

the   sky  is  clear,   but  green  again   as  soon   as   the   clouds 
gather.     A  shoal  of  fishes  plays  in  the  water  and  splashes 

on  the  surface.  .         ,,r      i- 1      i      i 

\n<l  again  the  hours  of  the  day  pass  by.  We  glide  s  owly 
forwards,  now  over  calm  rising  swell,  whispering  gently  as 
spirit  voices,  now  over  small  pyramidal  waves  produced  by 
the  meeting  of  two  svstems  of  undulations  from  different 
directions.  Four  small  s(iualls  from  different  quarters 
threaten  us,  Imt  we  catch  only  a  flip  of  their  tails, 
which  cannot  stir  up  the  waves  to  a  dangerous  height. 
The  last,  from  the  .south-east,  is  the  strongest,  and 
then  the  .sail  is  hoisted.  But  still  the  shore  seems  far 
distant;     perhaps    Tsering    was    right    with    his    Lamaistic 

^'  AH  "  details,  however,  become  sharper  and  clearer. 
Gurla  turns  three  mighty  gables  towards  the  lake, 
and  between  them  huge  fans  of  detritu.s  and  erosion 
channels  come  to  view.  The  fans  become  flatter  towards 
the  shore,  and  extend  under  the  water  down  to  the 
greatest  depths  of  the  lake;  on  the  north  shore,  where 
a  wide  plain  lies,  the  lake  bottom  might  be  expected  to 
sink  more  slowly.  Gurla  is  a  splendid  background  to  the 
holy  lake  -  no  artist  in  the  world  could  conceive  anything 
more  magnificent  and  interesting. 

Then  wc  sounded  253,  243,  253,  223,  190,  177.  and   »2 
feet    and  perceived  at  length  that   the  shore  was  near,  tor 
yaks   and   sheep   were   visible   on   the   hills.     The   sea   was 
now  fairly  high,  and  we  had  to  bale  the  boat  twice,  and  my 
fur   coat    on    the    bottom    was    wet.     The   two    tired    and 
sleepy  men  laboured   painfully  at   the  oars.    We   talked   of 
how  pleasant  it  would    be  to  land,  kindle  a  fire,  and    tike 
our  tea  and  food,  but  the  shore  still  retired  before  us,  and 
the  hours  of  the  afternoon  slipped  past.      Gurla  seemed  to 
rise  in   the   south  directlv  from  the  water,  its  level   skirts 
and    low    slores    being    much    fore.shortened.    The    monks 
of   the   monastery   here   do   not   depend   for  water   on   the 
brooks,  but  drink  the  holy  water  of  the  lake,  which  has  m 
realitv    the    taste    of    the    purest,    most    wholesonie,    spnng 
water.      Its   crystal    purity   and   dark   greenish   blue    colour 
are   as  beautiful   as  the   flavour,   and   to   pilgrims   from   a 


:(f 


fmmmmm 


A  NIGHT  ON   MANASAROWAR 


121 


XLIV 

distance   the   water  of   Munasarowar  is  preferable  to  spar- 
kling chumpagne.  .        .  .    •      .u„ 

\t  list  we  were  released  from  imprisonment  in  the 
Ixrit  We  siiw  the  bottom  through  the  clear  water  and 
a  few  strokes  of  the  oar  brought  the  lx)at  to  a  wall  of  clay 
and  decaying  weeds,  which  the  winter  ice  had  Pushed  up 
on  the  bank  Inside  the  wall  lies  a  longish  lagoon,  ^^. t h 
nmd  in  which  one  sinks  to  the  kiiee.  I  he  time  was  half- 
past  one,  so  we  had  bee.i  16^  hov.rs  on  the  lake  But 
Ivhen  we  had  reached  the  shore  we  found  it  impossible  to 
Lu-t  on  land.  After  1  had  thought  over  the  matter  while 
the  men  looked  about  them,  we  rowed  northwards,  and 
after  an  hour  and  a  half  discovered  a  place  where  the  boat 
could  be  drawn  ashore.  Then  we  had  been  eighteen 
hours  on  the  water.  ^    , 

A  herdsman  was  seen,  but  he  made  off  quickly.  Fue 
was  collected  and  a  f\re  lighted.  Tea  was  infused  and 
mutton  fried,  and  when  the  three  of  us  had  eaten  our 
dinner  a  temporary  tent  was  constructed  of  the  oars,  mas^, 
and  sail,  in  which  I  lay  down  to  sleep  towards  seven  o  clock 
wrapped  in  my  fur,  and  with  the  life-buoys  for  a  pillow  I 
had  toiled  for  thirty-one  hours  contmuously,  so  I  went  to 
sleep  at  once,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  storm  which  raged 
all  night,  or  of  the  twenty-five  pilgrims  who  passed  by  at 
dawn  on  their  circuit  of  the  holy  lake. 


ii*'^'?^P^f^-^^?r^-' 


I.' 


I  ' 


n 


CHAPTER  XLV 


MORE    LAKE    VOYAGES 


h  ^ 


I, 


'I' 


.  .1 

!  .1 


I  WAS  awakened  at  six  o'clock,  havinj?  felt  no  cold  in  the 
night,  for  tlic  minimum  temperature  was  40°.  The  morn- 
ing was  fine,  only  too  warm;  the  j)ilgrims  had  gone  away; 
we  ate  our  breakfast,  pushed  the  Ixjat  into  the  water,  and 
rowed  about  90  yards  from  the  shore  towards  the  north- 
north-east  and  north-north-west,  descriljing  a  slight  liend 
to  canip  No.  214.  On  our  left  hand  was  a  row  of  pebble 
mounds,  gradually  rising  to  the  top  of  the  promontory 
which  separates  Manasarowar  from  Rakas-tal. 

Soon  the  monastery  Gossul-gompa  was  seen  on  its 
pebble  terrace,  nearly  130  feet  high,  like  a  swallow's 
nest  hanging  over  the  lake.  A  group  of  lamas  stood 
silently  watching  the  boat;  they  had  never  in  their  lives 
seen  such  a  contrivance  on  the  holy  lake.  When  we 
drew  near  they  vanished  like  rats  into  their  holes,  and 
only  an  old  man  remained  sitting  by  a  balustrade.  I 
asked  him  the  name  of  the  monastery,  and  he  said  Gossul- 
gompa.  The  next  point  shut  out  the  convent.  The 
shore  lagoons  continue,  though  the  margin  below  the  hills 
is  only  30  to  60  feet  broad.  The  clay  in  which  the 
lagoons  are  embedded  is  impermeable  t(}  water,  but  the 
lake  has  only  to  rise  a  couple  of  feet  to  find  an  outlet  over 
the  sandbank  behind  into  the  Rakas-tal,  or  Langak-tso, 
on  the  w{  t.  And  when  the  channel  at  the  north-west 
corner  is  silted  up,  as  it  is  now,  the  Manasarowar  has  a 
subterranean  outlet  to  the  ndghbouring  lake,  and  its 
water    consequentlv    remains    perfectly    fresh. 

I  now  intended   to  camp  a  little  to  the  north  at  some 


if 


CHAP.  XLV 


MORE   LAKE  VOYAGES 


«23 


suitable  spot,  and  thence  row  the  followinR  day  over  the 
like  to  our  headquarters  near  SerolunRRompa.  We  tcK.k 
iK-arinKS  of  a  cinnabar  red  hill  lyin^  on  the  north  side  of 
a  ^liKhtlv  indented  bay  of  the  western  shore.  A  fresh 
southerly'  breeze  was  blowing,  we  hoisted  the  sai  ,  and 
"flew  whizzing  over  the  lake.  The  {nlgrims  watched  our 
vovage  with  the  greatest  astonishment,  and  the  monks 
of'  (iossul  cautiously  followed  us  on  the  hills,  no  doubt 
wondering  how  such  sacrilege  would  end.  The  wild- 
geese  swam  with  their  young  ones  out  into  the  lake, 
while  other  swimming  birds  took  themselves  off  some 
loo  yards  inland,  perhaps  taking  the  boat  for  a  curious 
water  bird   of   unusual   size. 

We  went  ashore  at  the  red  promontory,  and  while  tue 
was  being  collected  and  the  camp  arranged,  I  reconnoitred 
the    neighbourhootl    from    the    heights    alx)ve   the    landing- 
place.     On   the  inner  side  of  the  shallow   bay  I   found   a 
hollow  with  its  Ijottom  lower  than  the  surface  of  the  lake, 
and   filled   with  salt   water,   and   on   the   west   side  of  this 
swamp  lies  the  lowest  dip   in   the   isthmus  separating  the 
twin   lakes.     Up    there   runs    the  pilgrim  road,  worn  down 
by  hundreds    of    thousands    of    weary   feet.    Three    armed 
horsemen    rode   along    the    way.     They   came   up    without 
dismounting,  and  evidently  did  not  know  what  to  make  of 
me.    They  could  easily  have  taken  me  prisoner  now  that 
I  was  separated  from  my  men,  but  they  did  not  think  of  it, 
and    rode    on.     A   furious   storm    swept    over    the    lake,   its 
surface  was  wildly  agitated,  and  covered  with  white  horses. 
The    farther,    eastern    part    was    of    a    deep  green    colour, 
while    on    our    western    shore    it    was    lighter.     The    water 
of  the   shore  lagoons  was  dark   purple   from   the    reflexion 
of  t*-,  dense  clouds.    Towards  four  o'clock  the  air  became 
oppressively  still,  then  the  wind    sprang   up,  and  an  equally 
violent   north-west   storm   came   down   raging   and    roaring. 
The  wild  south-easterly  waves  were  suppressed   by  it,  and 
the    undulations    remained    uncertain    till    the    new    wave 
system   was   established.    There   was   rain   in   many   places 
round   the  lake,  but  we   felt   only  a   few  drops.     About  six 
o'clock   the   skv  looked   ihreulening,  with  pilch  dark  clouds 
all  around,  and  not  a  trace  could  be  seen  of  the  eastern 


^SM^m^^^B^^^^s^m^^^m^m^^ng?^w^i^^m^^<^^^^^^^^^§^j 


124 


TRA\S-I  II  MALAYA 


Of  AT. 


r     ' 
h 

r 

L: 


shore;  vvc  seemed  to  stand  on  the  roast  of  the  ocean. 
Soon  after  the  wind  veered  round  to  the  east-south-cast, 
and  then  the  surf  Ix-at  all  the  evening;  aj^ainst  our  beach. 
How  fortunate  that  the  weather  had  not  i)een  like  this  the 
evening  Ixfore  ! 

We  sat  two  hours  by  the  fire  and  talked.  Its  flames 
flickered  and  darted  in  all  directions,  so  that  they  singed 
Shukkur  Ali's  goat's  Ixard.  The  weather  was  still  so 
threatening  that  vvc  made  a  shelter  of  the  lx)at,  in  which 
I  lay  down  early  to  sleep.  Before  dozing  of!  I  listened  to 
the  roar  of  the  waves,  and  thought  I  heard  all  kinds  of 
mysterious  sounds  in  the  night,  but  it  was  only  the  cry 
of  water-birds  and  the  howling  of  the  wind  among  the 
hills. 

The  men  had  orders  to  call  me  before  sunrise,  for  we 
must  hasten  if  we  wished  to  reach  camp  Xo.  212  before 
darkness  set  in.  It  was  scarcely  light  when  I  came  cjut  of 
my  shelter.  The  last  provisions  were  consumed  by  the 
mcirning  fire,  and  then  we  put  otT  alx)Ut  half-pa.st  four  in 
dull,  disagreeable  weather.  The  strong  west  wind  carried 
us  "-apidly  away  from  the  shore  —  indeed,  it  was  really  too 
strong  for  our  sail  and  mast,  but  it  took  us  on  and  doubled 
our  pace.  We  had  lx;en  sheltered  under  the  hillo,  but 
when  we  were  a  few  minutes  from  the  beach  the  lake 
became  uncomfortably  rough.  But  it  was  of  little  con- 
sequence, for  we  sailed  with  the  waves  and  took  in  no 
water. 

The  men,  too,  were  more  alive  than  on  the  first 
nocturnal  voyage.  They  had  evidently  made  up  their 
minds  to  reach  their  destination  before  night,  and  they 
rowed  like  galley-slaves  with  the  whip  hanging  over 
them;  they  seemed  to  run  a  race  with  the  west  wind,  and 
try  to  get  away  Ix'fore  the  waves  rose  too  madly.  The 
water  hissed  and  foamed  round  the  boat,  and  bubbled 
in  the  wake  as  when  butter  is  browned  in  a  pan,  and 
beneath  us  the  lake  boiled  up.  It  was  a  fine  voyage  as 
we  nxked,  spinning  rapidly  over  the  holy  waves. 

Shukkur  Ali's  refrain  to  the  strokes  of  the  oars  is  now 
'"Va  i)ate,  ])arvardigar  Rabel,  alehmin"  or  "iiialiah,"  while 
Rehim  .\li  responds  to  the  cry  of  his  comrade  with  "Haap" 


CHAP. 


<--^z*m'^4-*' 


it-: 


''  ^H 

y 

•^  1 

i 

(' 

^"V^ 

XLV 


MORE  LAKE  VOYAGES 


125 


—  the  p  jerked  out   quickly   and  loudly   like  an  explosion 

—  and  with  the  refrain  "lllallah,"  or  "Svalallah."  The 
Arabic  words  arc.  as  usual  in  Ladak,  much  corrupted,  but 
they  lighten  the  work,  and  after  Shukkur  Ali  had  yelled 
them  out  thirty-five  times  in  a  minute  for  nine  hours  as 
loudly  as  his  vocal  chords  would  let  him,  he  was  dreadfully 
hoarse   in  the   evening. 

Then  the  soundings  were  131,  171,  171,  i77'  177-  i^S, 
187,  and  177.  Out  lx;yond  the  abrasion  terrace  and  its 
rather  steep  escarpment,  the  lake  bottom  is  p.actically 
level.  Hanging  cloud  fringes  show  that  rain  is  pouring 
down  in  torrents  on  most  sides,  but  we  escape  it. 
My  excellent  boatmen  row  twice  as  fast  as  on  the  first 
night,  but  it  is  impossible  to  induce  them  to  row  in  time. 
If  I  loose  the  rudder  a  moment  my  boat  falls  off  to  the 
north  or  south  instead  of  making  east,  where  camp  No. 
212  lies.  If  it  is  dark  before  we  reach  the  shore,  our  men 
are  to  light  a  pile  of  wood  to  guide  us. 

The  day  draws  to  an  end,  the  wind  sweeps  away  the 
clouds,    and    they    seem    to    gather    round    the    mountains, 
which   form    a    grand   wreath   around    this    pearl   of    lakes. 
The  wind   dies  quite  away,  the   sun   scorches  my   weather- 
beaten  face,  and  it  is  trying  to  the  eyes  when  the  sparkling 
gold    of    the    sunbeams    falls    straight    upon    them.      Their 
blinding   light    makes    it   difficult    to   distinguish    our    goal, 
but  I  hold  the  compass  in  my  hand.     The  waves  sink  and 
become   more    languid,   and    the    sea    is    again    smooth    as 
glass.     Now  we  move  more  slowly,  for  the  wind  no  longer 
pushes   behind,  but    the    men   are    unwearied;    their  boat- 
song  dies   away  over    the   water,   awaking   no   echo.    The 
hills   of    the   eastern    shore    show   no   perceptible  difference 
in   size   between   one    sounding-point    and   the   next.      I   ^it 
dreaming,   the   rhythmical  song  and   the   splashing  of   the 
oars    exercising    a    soporific    effect.     I    seem    to    hear    the 
tramp  of  a  horse  which  bears  a  rider  in  silver  harness  over 
the    granite    mountains    of    the    Trans-Himalaya    through 
an   unknown  land,  and   in   the  dream   I   perceive   that   the 
features  of  the  rider  are  my  own.     Then  I  am  sad,  for  the 
dream    is    false.      I    have  '  certainly     crossed     the     Trans- 

T  r. ^^ 1.,.     *!,.. —     ».«««^^     1mi#      fU,.     ro^cf     i  rriT^ofto  nf     n^r*     of 


126 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


h 


'  I 


[^ ' 


I 


the  exploration  has  not  been  accomplished.  That  I  have 
(lone  my  utmost  in  dealinf^  both  with  the  Tibetans  and  the 
Chinese'  to  i^ain  access  to  the  country  north  of  the  Tsangpo 
is  no  consolation  to  me.  If  one  can  storm  the  op.posing 
bulwark  of  Xaturc,  one  should  be  able  to  overcome  the 
obstinacy  of  man.  Up  yonder  in  the  north,  behind  Kailas, 
the  Trans-Himalaya  extends  its  granite  ramparts,  and  I 
must  go  there  though  it  cost  me  my  life.  I  must  go  there, 
if  I  clothe  myself  in  the  rags  of  a  mendicant  lama  and  beg 
my  way  from  one  black  tent  to  another. 

But  we  are  litill  on  the  holy  lake ;  it  is  a  day  of  rest  and 
a  summer's  day.  I  feel  the  skin  of  my  face  cracked  by 
the  burning  of  the  sun.  The  hours  crawl  so  slowly  over  the 
lake;  patience,  patience.  The  clouds  display  wonderful 
tone-effects;  white  and  grey,  shari)ly  defined,  they  lie  in 
different  stages  before  the  mountains,  and  behind  them 
dark  blue  and  purple  curtawis  seem  to  hang  (  ^vn.  We 
might  be  gliding  over  the  bright  floor  of  a  temple  hall, 
its  walls  richly  decorated  with  flags  and  standards,  which 
hang  down  from  golden  hooks  on  the  ceiling  of  the  sky, 
and  touch  the  dust  of  earth  with  their  fringes.  The 
genii  of  Siva's  paradise  seem  to  hover  round  us.  Now 
Shukkur  Ali  has  taken  to  a  new  cry:  "Ya  aferin  adett,"  to 
which  he  adds  "Ya,  Allah,"  as  he  lifts  his  oar,  and  Rc- 
him  Ali  chimes  in  with  "Shup[)."  The  depth  still  remains 
about  1 80  feet.  To  the  S(juth-cast  curious  clouds  are 
reflected  in  the  lake,  and  a  mist  seems  to  be  creeping  over 
the  water.  All  the  tones  are  so  light,  airy,  and  grey  that 
the  landscape,  which  surrounds  us  like  a  ring  where  the 
water  ends,  seems  hardly  real.  The  twin  summits  of 
Fundi  on  the  north-east  are  dark  and  solemn,  and  equally 
dark  and  solemn  is  the  mirror  of  the  lake.  Silver  Ix'ads 
drop  from  the  oars  and  glitter  like  diamonds  in  the  sun. 
I  could  live  and  die  on  this  heavenly  lake  without  ever 
growing  weary  of  the  wonderful  spectacle  always  present- 
ing fresh  surprises. 

Meanwhile  a  light  south-easterly  breeze  disturbs  again 
all  the  reflexions.  The  valleys  Pachen  and  Pachung  open 
their  doors  wider  ancl  wider,  and  allow  us  to  see  deeper 
into  the  recesses  of  the  mountain.     \\c  recognize  the   hills 


XLV 


MORE   LAKE   VOYAGES 


127 


above  camp  Xo.  212,  1)ut  the  tents  arc  not  visible.  But 
we  see  a  white  spot  on  tile  northern  shore  whicli  we  take 
for  a  j^om|)a.  The  depth  is  somewluit  over  igy  feet;  "  Va 
bismillali  liuni!"  is  Shukkur  AH's  .■xelamation.  At  the 
>i\teeiuh  jjoint  the  (lei)tli  has  aj^ain  deereased,  the  south- 
easterly breeze  has  ceased,  and  the  lake  is  a^^ain  a  sheet  of 
},da>s.  Xow  the  tents  can  Ix;  seen  as  tiny  sjjccks,  and  we 
hope  to  com[)lete  tliis  line  also  without  a  storm.  A  long, 
low,  smooth  swell  of  closely  following  waves,  like  the  wake 
of  a  distant  steamer,  comes  to  meet  us.  How  has  it  l)een 
])rfKluced,  since  the  lake  is  (juite  peaceful?  Perhaps  by  a 
slight  convulsion  of  the  earth's  crust,  which  has  disturbed 
the  shore.  The  undulations  on  this  round  lake  are  very 
peculiar.  At  point  Xo.  20  the  depth  is  only  128  feet,  and 
ncjw  we  have  not  far  to  go. 

Crack !  Shukkur  All's  oar  broke  oiT  in  the  middle  with 
a  bang,  and  the  boat  dre'>'  rapidly  away  from  the  blade 
end,  which  had  to  Ix"  pi>_..L'd  up.  The  good  man  was  so 
dumbfounded  and  bewildered  that  he  stammered,  "That 
does  not  matter,"  and  went  on  rowing  with  the  shaft  in 
the  air.  Xow,  wlien  the  tents  were  so  near,  he  had 
developed  too  much  strength.  "It  is  well  that  the  old 
man  does  not  Imrst  himself,''  I  thought.  We  tied  the 
jiarts  together  with  a  j)iece  of  string.  There  was  a  stir 
on  the  shore  when  we  landed.  The  waiting  men  showed 
by  word  and  gesture  how  glad  they  were  to  have  us  back 
again  after  giving  way  to  all  kinds  of  dismal  foreb(xlings 
cbout  our  sad  fate.  Just  as  they  caught  sight  of  the  boat 
out  on  the  lake,  Rolx'rt  was  alwut  to  ^^end  out  patrols  up 
and  down  the  shore.  All  was  well  in  the  camp,  e.\-cept 
that  the  Tibetans  were  troubled  Ix'cause  their  provisions 
were  at  an  end.  I  gave  them  money  to  buy  tsuiuba  at  the 
monastery.  In  the  evening  I  discussed  with  Rol)ert  a 
plan  of  rowing  southwards  to  investigate  the  lake  bit  by 
bit.  We  bought  a  plank  and  two  staves  in  Serolung,  and 
on  the  first  leisure  day  Shukkur  Ali  cut  out  with  an  a.xe 
two  excellent  oars,  after  a  pattern  I  had  cut  for  him  from 
the  lid  (jf  a  cigarette  box. 

(Jn    the    next    dav,    the    anniversarv    of    mv    arrival    in 


Leh, 


a    new    nioMtri 


begai 


i..ver' 


UlliC 


I 


mv 


' 


128 


TRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


V 


'  ( 


•  <*l 


It.  ' 


h\ 


■  f 


diary    'the    first."    I  wonder  what   the   new  month  holds  in 
its    lap    -new    discoveries    or    new    disappointments.-'     But 
I   hope  alwavs,  anrl  l)elieve  that  all  will  come  rif^'ht  at  last. 
Raljsanj^   and    'I'lnidui)    Sonam    rowed,  and    Roljert    steered 
alonj^    the     three  leet    line    about    55    yards  from     the   land, 
while  I  sat  in  the  bow,  compass  in  hand,  and  drew  a  map 
of  the  shore-line,  the  hills    and  valleys,  and  all  the  details 
that  are  characteristic  of  a  lake.     Charles  A.  Sherrinf:;  states 
in    his     book     on     western    Tibet    that     Mr.     Drummond, 
Commissioner    of    Bareilly,   sailed     in     1855     in  a   boat   on 
Manasarowar,  but    no    result    ha.>   come   to    my   knowledge ; 
on    the    contrary,  I    find    that    the    very   latest    map   of    the 
lake    needs    a    thoroUL!;h    correction.      Soundings    had    never 
been   taken   before,    and    the   object   of   my    luxiting   expedi- 
tions was  to  collect   material   for  a  detailed   isobathic   map. 
When  we  left  behind   us  the  basin  of  the  Brahmaputra  at 
the   pass    Tamlung,    I    had    already   suspected    that    Mana- 
sarowar was  a  member  of  the  hydrographic  system  of  the 
Sutlej,  and  I  wished  to  try  if  I  coukl  not  make  a  contribu- 
tion   towards   the   solution   of    this    problem.     I    knew    that 
my    investigations     couUl     only     be     ina<lequate,    but    they 
yielded    a    number    of    facts    hitherto    unknown.      Among 
these  are  the  svstematic  sounding  of  the  lx>d,  by  means  of 
which    conclusions    mav    be    drawn    as    to    the    origin    and 
formation   of   tlie   lake.'    I   soon  convinced    myself  that   the 
lake   depression   had    been   excavated   by   okl   glaciers   from 
the  southern  mountains,  as  I  at  first  conjectured,  and  was 
not  dammed  uj)  bv  moraine  walls  across  the  broad  valley. 
But   want   of   si)ac'e   forbids   me   to   enter   fully   into   a  dis- 
cussion of   this  interesting  question. 

We  glide  in  a  flat  curve  to  the  south-west,  and  have  to 
increase  our  distance  from  the  shore  that  we  may  not  run 
aground  on  the  sandy  bottom.  The  water  at  this  season 
of  the  year  has  a  fairly  constant  temperature  of  aljout  50°. 
Then  we  approach  the  mouth  of  the  Tage-tsangpo.  For 
about  two-thirds  of  a  mile  the  river  flows  parallel  to  the 
shore  of  the  lake,  Ijeing  separated  from  it  by  an  embank- 
ment 13  feet  high,  which  has  been  cast  up  by  the  waves 
.,„.i    ,u\   .-,.-,...:.>.•..   of   thi-   {re      Hero   wp   encamued    among 

ami     1:1'-     ['•^ ^      ' "  ' 

ilrift^and    am 


bushes,    and     measured    the    Tage-tsangpo. 


MORE   LAKE   VOYAGES 


129 


Its  breadth  was  56.8  feet,  its  maximum  depth  3.4  feet,  and 
its  (li>ch;irgc  397.6  cubic  feet  a  second,  or  106  cubic  feet 
more  than  where  we  last  gauged  it  above  the  Xa-marden 
affluent  I  have  alreadv  related  how  we  first  came  in 
contact  with  this  river  at  the  pass  Tam-lung-la;  its  source 
stream,  the  Gang-lung-chu,  or  "water  of  the  ice-  valley, 
comes  from  the  Gang-lung  mountain  in  the  south,  and  so 
there  is  a  glacier  or  "ice  valley"  in  this  mountain  which 
is  the  origin  of  the  Tage-tsangpo.  It  is  seen  from  the 
Tarn-lung 'la.  and  is  the  glacier  which  I  venture  to  call  the 
Sutlej's  genetic  source  or  the  real  original  sor-ce.  \\c 
shall  return  to  this  attractive  problem.  _ 

From  everv  camp  on  the  lake  Robert  rowed  out  with 
two  men  at  right  angles  to  the  beach,  sounding  the  depth 
every  five  minutes.  Bv  means  of  these  radiating  lines  we 
discovered  the  saucer-shaped  form  of  the  lake,  for,  as  T 
have  alreadv  remarked,  the  lake  lx)ttom  is  on  the  whole 
very  even.  "Xow,  from  camp  No.  215,  Robert  rowed  out  to 
a  depth  of  'eet. 

On     Au^  2    we    continued     our    boating    excursion, 

while  the  'caravan  marched  along  the  shore.  All  went 
excellentlv  well,  we  heard  not  a  word  of  any  officials  m 
pursuit  o'f  us,  and  the  Tiljctans  placed  yaks  and  mules  at 
our  disposal  with  the  greatest  willingness.  A  couple  of 
showers  fell,  loud  thunder  rolled  in  Gi:rla  Mandatta,  and 
a  violent  south-westerly  breeze  forced  us  to  come  to  a 
halt  and  wait  at  a  place  on  the  shore  where  the  brook 
fn^m  th.e  Xima-pendi  valley  debouches,  forming  a  delta 
within  a  broken  mole.  Fish  arc  plentiful  in  the  brook, 
but  here  also  the  Tibetans  asked  us  not  to  catch  them, 
and  we  respected  their  wishes  —  only  stupid  and  uncouth 
men  wound  the  religious  feelings  of  others.  By  this  brook 
the  lake  receives  a  tribute  of  49-4  cubic  feet  per  second, 
while  the  Richung-chu  entering  farther  to  the  wcst-scjuth- 
west  contributes  63.6  cubic   feet. 

We  {)assed  Yanggo-gompa  under  sail  at  a  rather  short 
distance,  and  steered  straight  for  Tugu-gompa,  picturesquely 
situated  on  a  strand  terrace.  Here  l)egin  the  long  lagoons 
^n-i  -^•••'  ...-.•.iv.r,i-m..nt  \v..  h:\(\  seen  from  the  western 
beach,  and  we  were  carried  comfortably  ashore  and  greeted 
VOL.  n  ' 


^1 


!■• 


'3° 


TRAXS-I II  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


I(    ' 


It  { 


politely  by  a  band  of  Hindus  rnnsistinr;  of  pilgrims  and 
traders.  A  number  of  Tibetan  sliepherds  from  the  north 
wiTc  staviuL,'  here,  where  a  not  unim])ortant  wool  market 
is  held  everv  --unimer.  A  ,!j;roU])  of  monks  stocxl  on  the 
roof.  Our  (ani])  was  ]iitclied  close  to  the  foot  of  the 
monastery,  on  the  shore  road,  and  had  a  fine  view  over 
the  lake'  and  Kailas  luhind  it.  At  the  southern  wall  of 
the  convent  is  a  yard  eneloMii  by  a  stone  wall,  where  500 
sheep  were  packed  like  herrin.Ljs  in  a  barrel,  to  Ix-  sli</rn 
in  turn  by  Hindus  and  Botia>  who  come  from  Almora 
and  the  border  country  in  the  soul'i.  The  nomads  receive 
eitzht  annas  (M.)  for  every  slieep,  good  interest  on  their 
live  capital.  Tiie  wool  from  500  sheep  is  said  to  amount 
to  16  yak  loads  (lUustratifjn    249). 

We  j)aid  at  once  a  visit  to  the  monastery,  where  the 
thirteen  monks  and  their  abbot,  Tabga  Rinchen,  received 
us  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  politeness,  showed  us 
everything,  and  eX|)lained  to  us  the  various  temjile  halls. 
They  had  hiard  of  my  voyages  on  the  lake,  and  had  now 
seen  with  their  own  eyes  my  boat  sailing  before  a  favour- 
able wind,  and  they  expressed  their  sincere  conviction 
that  I  must  possess  occult  powers  to  defy  v.-ith  impunity 
the  god  of  the  holy  lake.  But  they  understood  that  this 
was  owing  to  my  friendship  with  the  Tashi  Lama, 
who  had  given  me  his  holy  blessing.  The  monastery 
Tugu-gompa  is  a  dependency  of  Shibeling-gompa  in  Purang, 
and  most  of  tlie  monks  come  from  there  to  spend  three 
years  on  the  lake.  They  own  herds  in  Chang-tang, 
trade,  and  seem  to  be  in  good  circumstances;  at  any  rate, 
thev  help  the  poor  j^ilgrims  who  have  nothing  to  cat 
on '  their  wanderings  round  Tso-mavang.  They  receive 
gifts  from  well  to-do  pilgrims.  The  temple  halls  are 
picturescjue,  handsome  and  in  very  good  order.  You 
enter  from  an  ui)pcr  balcony  into  an  outer  hall  with 
wall  paintings,  among  which  is  a  picture  of  Tso-mavang 
with  the  fish-god,  Mado  Oemo,  rising  from  the  waves 
(Illustration  250).  He  has  seven  water  snakes  in  his  hair, 
and  the  lowtr  ])art  of  his  body  is  like  a  green  dolphin. 
The  lake  is  as  deep  as  it  is  broad,  and  conceiiliic  ri^l,^.-, 
encircle     the    rising    god.     The    abbot    said    that    the    fish- 


^U 


< 


^1^ 


>  r/y-^i> 


F 


;i! 


1  -/  V 


'^'^ 


y 


.^ 


V 


\\ 


'  I 


,    lS 


h\ 


XLV 


MORE   LAKE   VOYAGES 


131 


goii  romcs  up  to  f^rix't  the  <,'i)(I  of  Tso-mavan,!:?,  Illabscn 
l)i)rilu'  Harva,  who  gallops  in  a  cloud  of  j^ri'v  fiery  tongues 
and  smoke  on  a  pink  horse,  ami  is  armed  with  spear,  Ih)w 
and  (|uiver.  In  the  hackj^round  stands  Kanj,'  rinpoehe, 
the  holy  mountain.  The  whole  jjieture  is  wantinj.';  in 
])ersi)ettive  and  proportion,  hut  it  is  curious  and  interest- 
ini,'.  and  the  Lamaist  artist  has  done  his  Ust  to  idealize 
the  holy  lake  by  his  drawint;  and  colourinj^.  I  made  a 
copy  of  this  work  of  art,  which  has  some  relationship  with 
our  old  country  ])aintin},'s. 

From  the  entrance  hall  a  small  door  «,'ives  access  to 
the  holiest  shrine  in  all  Tugu-f^ompa,  namely,  the  hall 
of  tlu'  lake  god.  He  is  represented  only  as  a  mask, 
surrounded  by  kiidakhs,  and  seems  to  ])eep  out  from 
between  curtains.  A  coui)le  of  llames  burn  l)efore  him  and 
the  usual  bowls  are  placed  on  a  stool  table.  No  man 
but  the  mcjnks  themselves  may  enter  this  little  alcove,  but 
I  obtained  permission  to  sit  on  the  threshold  and  draw  a 
sketch  of  it  (Illustrati(jn  251).  I  regarded  this  unknown 
niabsen  Dorche  Barva  almost  with  reverence,  for  he  ruled 
over  my  Ix'loved  lake  and  had  been  so  gracious  to  me. 

Hut  the  finest  sight  of  all  was  the  view  from  the 
monastery  roof.  The  highest  parts  of  Gurla  Mandatta, 
here  called  Mama-nani  or  Mamo-nani,  were  concealed  by 
the  lower  Hanks,  for  we  were  too  near  to  it,  but  the 
surface  of  the  lake  stretched  out  northwards  to  an 
immense  distance.  A  lama,  who  had  served  at  seveial 
different  times  in  the  convent,  asserted  that  the  lake  rose 
24  to  28  inches  in  rainy  summers,  and  declared  that 
eighteen  years  before  the  water  had  reached  to  the  foot 
of  the  red  facade  of  the  monastery.  This  seemed  im- 
proljable,  for  the  distance  between  the  lake  and  the 
monastery  was  323  feet,  and  the  foot  of  the  convent 
facade  (the  right  corner  looking  from  the  strand)  lay 
20.67  feet  abiive  the  level  of  the  lake.  I  (juote  these 
figures  to  enable  a  future  explorer  to  determine  whether 
the  lake  has  risen  or  fallen  since  August  2,  1907. 

I  passed  the  next  days  in  the  monastery,  sketched  the 
lamas  at  their  various  temple  services,  and  fell  in  love 
with  this  pleasant,  handsome    lugugompa.      Punso  Lama, 


»3» 


TRAXS-IIIMALAVA 


CU.VP.    XLV 


•      t 


til 


a  youn^  monk,  was  my  i>arti(ular  frit-nd,  and  showed  me 
everything,'  with  the  in'exhau>tibk'  knouiid^c  of  a  trained 
mu>eum  attendant.  Three  olTieials  of  the  I)eva>hung  had 
estahhshed  them>elves  in  the  entrance  hall  in  the  company  of 
the  four  ghostly  kin^s,  and  mattresses,  bundles,  tables,  swords 
and  <^uns  lav  or  sto<jd  in  j)rofane  disorder  at  the  entrance 
to  the  dwelling  of  the  hij,'h  gods  (Illustrations  252.  253.  257). 

Meanwhile    Robert   rowtd   out   from   the   southern   shore, 
and   sounded    the  depths  down  to  the  contour  of   207   feet. 
On    .\ugust    5,    we    paid    a    visit  to    Vanggo-gomj)a,  which 
contains    ten    monks   and   a  nun.     They  told  me  that^  they 
came    from  the   I  lor  country  in  the  north  of  central   Tilx.'t, 
and     therefore    call     themselves    Hor|)a,     but    also    Dokpa; 
the    Changi)a   are    the    nomads   of    Chang-tang.      The  abl)<)t 
is    from    Sekiya  gompa.      In    the    monastery's    iiuukiUii^,    a 
dark     subterranean     crypt,    hang    masks,    kudnkhs,    drums, 
sjjcars    and    guns.     I    asked    for    what    purpose    the    monks 
wanted    the    firearms,  as  one  of    their  fundamental    dogmas 
forbids    them    to    extinguish    the    light    <«f    life,    and    they 
answered   that   with   these  guns   many  wild   yaks  had   been 
killed,    whose    flesh    had    been    used    for    human    food,    and 
that    therefore   the   guns   had    been    installed    in    a    place   of 
honour     in     the     monastery.     Vamba     T.^ering,     a     monk 
twenty-iwo  years  old.  sat  with   his  head   against  a  wooden 
pillar'   and    gazed    in    silence   at    the   dim   light    which    fell 
into   the   crypt   through   an   impluvium;    he    looked    like    a 
dreamer,    a'  searcher    after    hidden    truth.     Beside    him    sat 
the  wrinkled   nun.     Both   found   their  way  into  my  sketch- 
])ook  (Illustrations  258.  259).      The  foot  of    the    monastery 
facade  lies  exactly  14 J  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  and 
the  river  Richen-chu,  entering  the  lake  behind  the  convent, 
discharges  62.13  cubic  feet  of  water  (Illustration  256). 

Vanggo-gompa  was  the  third  of  the  eight  monasteries 
of  the  holy  lake  which  I  had  visited,  and  1  wished  to  sec 
them  all  without  exception.  And  I  also  wished  to  gauge 
all  the  streams  falling  into  the  lake.  It  fluctuates  from 
day  to  day,  according  as  there  is  rain  or  sunshine,  but 
only  by  exact  measurements  could  I  arrive  at  the  volume 
whi'ch  is  pourcJ  into  the  clear  h:i<in  of  Tso-mavang  during 
a  dav  of  summer. 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

A    STORMY    VOYAGE   OVPIR    THE   HOLY    LAKE 

On  August  6  \vc  stayed  at  TuRU-gompa,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  monasteries  I  have  seen  in  Tibet.  I  was 
engaged  all  day  long,  with  Robert  and  Rabs;ing  to  assist 
me,  in  measuring  with  a  tape  the  dimensions  of  the  three 
storeys,  and  drawing  plans  of  them.  The  third,  however, 
is  little  more  than  a  roof  balcony.  I  have  no  space  to 
give  the  results  here.  As  we  were  on  the  rooi,  eight 
monks  were  sitting  in  the  inner  court  counting  their 
receipts,  which  were  duly  entered  in  a  cash-book.  Their 
rui)ces  and  tiiiiias  lay  in  heaps  on  a  short-legged  table. 
I  gave  a  handful  of  rupees,  throwing  them  among  the 
piles,  and  disturbing  the  calculations  of  the  monks. 
However,  they  were  very  thankful  for  this  unexpected 
contril)Ution,  which  seemed  to  fall  from  heaven. 

About  thirty  Hindu  pilgrims  set  up  their  .shabby  tents 
near  us.  In  the  evening  they  lighted  a  fire  on  a  flat  metal 
dish,  which  was  pushed  out  on  to  the  water,  and  shone  like 
a  beac(jn  fire  by  the  bank.  This  floating  pyre  was  meant 
as  a  homage  to  the  lake. 

On  August  7  I  was  awakened  early  when  the  sun  was 
pouring  fresh  gold  over  the  blue  lake,  and  a  lama  on  the 
convent  roof  was  blowing  long-drawn  heavy  notes  from 
his  shell  horn  over  the  surface.  I  hastened  to  the  shore 
where  the  boat  lay  ready  w^ith  its  usual  equipment. 
Shukkur  Ali  and  Tunduj)  Sonam  put  the  sounding-line 
in  order  and  stowed  our  baggage.  The  Hindus  lined 
the  twnk  like  the  wild-geese,  left  their  clothing  on  land, 
and  waded,  with  only  a  cloth  round  their  loins,  to  bathe  in 

133 


'  i 


'34 


IRANS  HIMALAYA 


CUAP. 


I, 


tlif    lioly    iHatifyin-^    water    nf    the    lake.     It    must    ho    very 
rffnsliin^    to    |)C()|il(.'    from    tlic    (  Iom'    jiinf^ks    of    India    to 


wast 


in    siu 


a    (ool    morning    in    wa 


tiT    at    onlv    a    few 


(U'j,'rits  above  free/in^  |)oint.  Mo-t  of  them,  however, 
j;o  in  no  farther  than  up  to  their  knees.  Tluri'  they 
s(|uat  (i')wn.  or  sioop  uji  the  water  in  their  joini'd  hands, 
and  throw  it  over  them.  They  make  syml)oliial  >-i^niN. 
fill  their  moutii  with  water  and  send  it  out  in  a  stream, 
hold  their  hmds  llat  a^'ainst  their  faics  and  look  at  the 
rising  sun,  and  perform  all  kinds  of  al)surd.  (om]ili(ated 
man'  'Ulations,    which    I    remi'mher   .seein<^    at    the    •^'liats    of 


.es. 


'liev 


are 


sunljurnt,     thin     and     miserahie,     and 


thev  are  too  thinly  elad       I  did  not  see  a  sin},'le  sheepskin 
—  and  they  complain  of  the  >everity  of    the  c  limate.  cat(  h 


chilh 


an 


1 


come 


to    mv    tent    for    medicine.     Some    stood 


about  an  hour  in  tlu'  water  before  they  returned  to  the 
beach  to  put  on  their  ilothinj,',  and  then  they  sat  in 
groups  talking.  Hut  they  return  to  the  valleys  of  India 
convinced  that  they  havi'  performed  an  action  well- 
pleasing  to  the  gods,  and  they  take  with  them  small 
metal  bottles  filled  with  holy  water  from  Manasarowar 
to  give  to  t'ieir  relations.  They  believe  that  one  of  the 
wavs  of  salvation  runs  j)ast  Manasarowar.  They  arc 
always  hopeful,  and  that  is  a  fine  thing  for  poor  pilgrims 
on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

They  stared  with  astonishment  at  our  boat,  which  was 
driven  out  from  the  shore  by  powerful  strokes,  perhaps 
with   envious    eves,    for    manv   asked    me    aft     vards    to    let 


them    go    w 


ith    me,   that    thev   might    for   the   rest  of  their 


lives  look  back  to  the  time  when  they  floated  on  the 
sacred  waves.  I'hc  lake  lay  .smooth  and  still,  but  at  the 
first   .sounding-station    (115    feet),    the   lake   god    .sho(jk   him- 


•If, 


a    nortn-wes 


terh 


bree/v  sprang  up,  and  the  waves 
s|)laslie(l  and  danced  briskly  again.st  our  bow,  for  our 
third  tine  of  soundings  was  carried  north,  27°  \V.,  towards 
camp  Xo.   J 14.     We  sounded    174,   207,   226,   2;,6.   2;/),   246, 


and 


'.s.S 


leet. 


wnile 


the 


waves    increa.sed 


am 


1    the    boat 


rode  well  but  with  diminished  speed,  (lurla  Mandatta  was 
almo.st  clear,  but  Kaiias  was  burieci  in  clouds,  i'iie  wind 
fell   and    the    sun    glowed,   and    everything    foretold    a    fine 


iVi 


^r          ^1 

'AiV'f 

IffiL-v.  *^...     '" 

^/'j'.  "'J'^^j 

4% 

-cr*"S**T  '^>'  *-v^  .,.^i, 

"■^—t ».  "'^ 

<»W^.^^.7kc*".^  '■«»  "^▼V^^Bl 

i''        "^'^'-^i'^ 

■^           75 

I                                          ^ 

XI  .        ':':'Jf\ 

•5      :A 

.^  ^l       ^v.3C^ 

PWWft 

.^^H^^V?.  *  1^^^^    mFj^^^  ^^B^^^^^^^ 

^gf^^Biffl 

;i.        1  I  \li'i  I      II  M  I     "I     1  HI      I.  \Kl     I  ,.i|j    ,.|      I  -..I  M  \\   wc. 


CiliAki  ^i'<    !\i  \i.i     i\     Tn.r  i.'iMi'  \. 
Skfli  lif^  li\   ilu-  Ami'.  ■!■. 


( 


•»  !' 


fif 


V\    ) 


^'i[ 


>  V  'T 


A   STORMY   VOYAGE 


'35 


day.  At  the  ninth  point  tlie  (le[)th  was  less.  246  feet ; 
\vc  had  passed  the  line  of  soundings  made  in  the  night 
and  its  great  depths.  Afterwards  the  depths  were  22^, 
197,  187.  IQ4,  and  200  feet. 

The  north-westerly  Ijreeze  ])egan  to  blow  again,  and  at 
mid-day  clouds  gathered  in  the  north.  .V  heavy  bluish- 
grey  layer  of  elouds  sjink  d(jwn  slowly  on  the  mountain 
tlanks,  and  from  its  under  side  rain  fringes  hung  down, 
greyish-purple  on  a  compact  clark  background.  All  the 
mountains  and  the  whole  .strand  disai)peared,  and  the 
masses  of  cloud  seemed  as  though  they  would  fall  on  the 
lake.  We  ])assed  the  fifteenth  station,  which  .showed  a 
depth  of  200  feet,  and  kept  a  .stearly  course  towards  the 
red  promontory.  The  rowers  put  forth  all  their  strength 
when  I  had  pointed  out  to  them  that  we  were  drawing 
near  to  the  .shelter  of  the  bank,  and  that  the  waves  were 
becoming  smaller  the  farther  we  advanced.  We  had  left 
Gossul-gompa  a  good  distance  to  the  left ;  I  could  not  .see 
the  monastery  myself,  but  the  men  .saw  it  as  a  small  white 
speck  in  the  distance. 

Just  before  one  o'clock  yellow  swirls  of  rlust  and  sand 
appeared  near  the  landspit  which  we  were  making  for. 
They  became  denser  ami  larger,  and  looked  yellow  and 
dismal  on  the  dark  purple  background  of  gathering  clouds. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  I  had  seen  such  storm  warnings. 

"We  are  in  for  a  storm,"  I  said  quietly. 

"  God  is  with  us."  replied  Shukkur  Ali  quite  as  calmly. 

"Row  on  and  we  shall  get  in  before  the  waves  are 
high." 

"If  we  turn  straight  to  the  shoie,  it  will  be  nearer," 
.suggested    Shukkur    Ali. 

"Xo,  we  will  not  alter  the  course,  we  will  make  .straight 
for  our  goal,  and  we  .shall  soon  be  in  the  .shelter  of  the 
hills  on  the  shore;  there  are  only  three  soundings  to  be 
taken,  and  they  can  be  left  for  another  time." 

The  wind  fell  again,  and  it  began  to  rain  in  a  fev.-  large 
drops,  which  on  reaching  the  surface  of  the  water  remained 
an  instant  as  .separate  round  beads,  as  though  they  were 
!"!!V('rofl  with  :!  fihr!  of  oil.  rb.en  fo!!i>wcd  -iin  extremclv 
heavy  shower  of  hail  which  lashed  the  water  as  it  .streamed 


I/> 


TRAXS-IflMALAVA 


■1 


•  I 


I'M' 


down,  enveloped  us  in  scmi-darkncss,  caused  the  lake  to 
leap  up  in  millions  of  tiny  fountains,  and  in  two  minutes 
made  the  inside  of  the  boat  white.  Nothing  was  visible 
but  ourselves  and  the  boat,  only  water  and  hail,  which 
scourged  the  lake  like  rods  and  produced  a  hissing  gurgle. 
Now  and  then  the  clouds  were  lighted  up  by  (|uivering 
lightning,  and  the  thunder  growler!  heavily  and  threaten- 
ingly in  the  north.  Then  the  men  turned  round,  but 
could  .see  nothing  in  the  mist;  they  were  unea.sy  and 
we    all    felt    that    there    was   danger    ahead. 

The  hail  was  followed  by  pelting  rain,  a  downpour  of 
such  furious  impetuosity  that  I  could  not  imagine  any 
more  tremendous.  It  fell  in  such  quantities  and  wiih  .such 
force  that  we  were  bowed  down  by  it.  I  had  on  three 
shirts  and  a  leather  vest,  but  after  a  short  time  I  felt 
that  the  water  was  streaming  down  my  bare  skin, 
which  had  this  advantage  that  all  the  future  douches  that 
awaited  us  could  make  no  further  im])ression.  I  had  my 
fur  coat  on  my  knees  with  the  skin  .side  up,  and  in  all  its 
hollows  the  water  collected  in  small  pools.  A  (luantity 
of  water  fell  into  the  boat  and  washed  about  with  the 
stroke  of  the  oars.  The  shore  was  not  visible,  and  I 
steered   by   the   comjjass. 

"Row  on,  we  have  not  much  farther  to  go." 
\t  length  the  '■ain  became  finer,  but  at  four  '  'nutcs 
after  one  o'clock,  we  heard  a  deafening  roar  in  the 
north-east,  a  sound  such  as  only  a  storm  of  the  greatest 
violence  can  produce.  Hail  and  rain  wire  nothing  to  it; 
now  that  the  heavy  sheets  of  water  were  withdrawn  the 
storm  had  a  free  cour.se  and  .swept  suddenly  and  furi(;usly 
over  the  lake.  Why  had  we  not  .started  an  hour  earlier, 
instead  of  watching  the  religious  ablutions  of  the  Hindus? 
.\'o,    the   god    of    Tso-mavang  was   angry   and    would  teach 


us  once  for  all  not  to  treat  so  lightly  the  lake  which 
splashes  his  dolphi.i's  tail  with  its  green  water.  How 
we  envied  the  monks  in  Gossul-gompa,  and  our  men 
d(,ivn  in  the  south  under  the  peaceful  walls  o^  the  Tugu 
m  )nastery !  What  would  they  say,  what  would  they  (lo, 
it    we    were    drowned    like    ca.ts    in    this    riu'in!''    lake? 

For    a    minute    we    struggled    irantically    to    keep    our 


XtVI 


A   STORMY   VOYAGE 


137 


course  in  spite  of  the  waves  which  swept  upon  us  from 
the  right.  They  swelled  up  with  astonishing  rajtidity, 
and  every  wave  which  dashed  against  the  taut  canvas 
of  the  boat  and  dissolved  into  spi  v,  made  a  cracking 
sound  as  though  the  little  vessel  .verc  about  to  burst. 
The  ne.xt  was  still  larger;  I  warded  it  otT  with  my  Indian 
helmet,  and  Tundup  Scmam  received  a  cold  bullet  which 
disconcerted  him  for  a  moment.  After  the  third,  which 
threw  its  foaming  crest  over  the  gunwale,  the  water  stood 
4  inches  deep  in  the  boat,  the  little  nutshell  with  the 
weight  of  three  men  lay  far  too  deep  in  the  water,  and  the 
water  we  had  shipped  gurgled,  lapped,  and  spla.shed  hither 
and   thither   with   the  1  roll   of   the   boat. 

Now  I  perceived  that  the  attemjjt  to  hold  our  course 
was  hopeless.  We  must  fall  off  with  the  wind  and  waves. 
We  had  Gossul-gompa  to  the  south,  50°  W..  and  the_  storm 
was  from  the  north-east;  we  could  iind  refuge  in  the 
monasterv,  if  we  could  get  so  far.  The  dilTiculty  was  to 
turn  at  right  angles  without  capsizing.  Twice  I  failed, 
and  we  shi])ped  more  water,  but  the  third  time  I  suc- 
ceeded, and  now,  if  we  ha<l  any  care  for  our  lives,  we 
must  prevent  the  boat  from  veering  up  into  the  wind; 
the  storm  came  a  little  from  the  right.  Tundup  Sonam, 
who  rowed  the  starboard  oar  in  the  Ijow,  had  all  the  work, 
while  Shukkur  Ali  had  only  to  dip  in  his  oar  occasionally 
at  mv  command,  but  though  outwardly  calm  he  was  too 
excited  and  eager,  and  when  my  voice  could  not  be  heard 
amid  the  howling  of  the  storm,  1  put  my  hand  on  his 
knuckles  to  make  him  leave  the  oar  alone. 

Now  began  a  vovage  such  as  I  had  never  experienced 
in  all  mv  V'^rnevs  'in  Tibet.  The  storm  increased  to  a 
hurricane,'  and  u'nder  its  pressure  the  waves  became  as 
high  as  the  billows  of  the  Baltic  in  stormy  weather;  a 
steamer  would  have  rolled  in  such  a  sea,  and  we  in  the 
little  canvas  boat  had  to  negotiate  the  unexpected  cross 
rolls  following  one  another.  Lashed,  hunted,  and  per- 
secuted by  the  raging  force  of  the  wind,  we  swept  over 
the    lake.     Every    new    wave    that    lifted    us    up    seemed 

Digger     man     tuc     la=i.     s^m^     "^■•■■-      -i.-.-i-     ■••'•' a         i 

as  though   moulded   out  of   mountain  crystal,  and  reflected 


■3« 


TRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


t[> 


the    (lark 

hottoniles- 

ini,L;ht  at  anv   iiiDinfiit 


It    sccmrd    as    thoui^'h    a 


rollirii^  U])   foam  (apprd,    i  is^in^  ami    thundering,' 


clouds    in    the'    north. 
watiTv    <.,'r;ivi'    yawned     in     front    of    us    which 
wallow  uj)  our   hoat.     Others  came 
,  ,  ,,  thundering,'   behind   '.is, 

and  we  shuddered  at  the  tiiou.^ht  that  ihev  mi,L;ht  fill  the 
boat  in  an  in>tant  and  ^md  it  to  thi'  bottom,  but  it  ro.sc 
bravely  owr  the  c  re'^ts.  The  virw  wa-^  o])en  on  all  sides, 
the  sun  was  \i>ible  in  the  south,  (Jurla  .Mandatta  was  clear 
and  sharp,  to  the  south,  50°  W.,  even  the  ternice  on  which 
Gossul  },'ompa  stands  could  be  seen,  and  it  was  black  and 
threatenint,'  (jnly  in  the  iKjrth.  Durin,!,'  the  second  whrn 
the  l)oat  was  b  lanced  ([uiverinL,'  on  the  cre>t  of  the  w.-.ve, 
we  mi.^'ht  fantv  ourselves  transplanted  to  a  loft_\  pass  in 
Chang  tanj;  with  a  world  of  mountain  raiiLjes  all  round  us, 
while  the  foam  of  the  wavrs  had  an  illu>ive  resemblance 
to    the    fielfls    of    eternal     snow. 

But  this  wave  als(j  passes  on  md  the  boat  sinks  into  a 
hollow,  We  fall  into  a  water  ii;rotto,  the  nearest  waves 
conceal  the  view,  the  walls  of  the  .grotto  are  of  the  ])urest 
malachiti'  behind  us  and  like  emerald  in  front.  Xow  we 
are  lifted  u\)  iv^iun  —  "At  it.  Tundup  Sonam,  or  the  hut,'c 
foaming  crest  will  thrust  us  down!"— he  ;)Uts  forth  all  his 
strength  and  the  wave  passes  us.  It  is  irregular  and 
reminds  us  of  the  i)yrami(lal  summit  of  Kubi-gangri ; 
two  such  crests  tower  up  in  front  of  us,  and  their  edges 
are  shattered  into  s]iray  by  the  wind.  They  are  as  trans- 
parent as  glass,  and  through  one  of  them  the  image  of 
Gurla  Mandatta's  bright  white  snowfields  is  refracted  as 
in  a  magnifying  glass.  We  have  a  watery  portal  in  front 
of  us  and  the  tips  of  the  waves  are  gilded  with  the  faint 
rellexion    of    the   sun    in    the    south. 

We  struggle  bravely  and  T  sit  on  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  pushing  the  rudder  with  all  my  strength  to  keep 
the  l)oat  in  the  right  direction,  while  the  spray,  lashed  by  the 
wind,  spurts  over  us  as  from  a  firediose.  Freciuently  a 
broken  crest  slips  over  the  gunwale,  Init  we  have  not  a 
hand  free  to  1)ale  out  the  water.  We  see  the  boat  ("illing 
slowlv  — shall    we   reach    the  bank    before    it    sinks?     The 


and 


-•;!   !i,- 


e   v.i 


iK 


reserve  oars  ticn    last  across  inc 


...        .    v.»»         ....  .-*,..  t-.y..        »\..^,_1     »  ,_         Vytlj  .-J         LH-II  Itl.^L        «IV     1  ^  /:^.^         liil^ 

middle  of  the  boat.     If  we  could  set  a  sail  the  boat  would 


! 


<1 


IfM 


t  11 


'  I 


I  1 

I  *    i 

I.        rf 


4i».^^- 


m^"^  ^h^lr 


A   STORMY   VOVACiE 


1.^9 


be  easier  to  handle,  but  it  is  not  to  be  thou,<,'ht  of  now, 
when  we  can  hardly  kec].  our  halanrc  >ittinj^  down  and 
stiffening  ourselves  with  our  feet,  with  the  heavy  blows 
ancl  the  unexpected  positions  the  boat  assumes  according? 
to  the  form  of  the  waves,  their  slopes,  curves  and  curls. 
And,  besides,  in  such  a  storm  the  mast  would  break  like 
glass. 

We  had  turnerl  at  right  angles  to  our  line  of  soundings, 
for  now  we  thought  only  of  saving  our  lives,  if  that  were 
possible  —  to  reach  the  land  before  tl.,  boat  sank.  Then, 
in  the  most  critical  moment,  when  an  irregular  wave 
threatened  the  boat.  I  called  on  Tundup  Sonam  to  put 
forth  all  his  strength,  and  he  did  it  too  well,  so  that  the 
oar  broke  with  a  crack.  Xow  all  hung  by  a  hair,  we 
could  not  manage  the  boat,  and  it  must  inevitably 
ca[)sizc  and  be  swamped  under  this  foaming  crest.  But 
Tundup  Sonam  realized  the  danger,  and  with  a  quick 
grasp  tore  loose  a  reserve  o;'r,  while  Shukkur  Ali  backed 
with  the  leeward  oar;  after  another  douche  we  trimmed 
the  boat  again. 

The  longer  the  storm  lasts  and  the  larger  the  expanse 
of  lake  left  behind  us  in  the  north-east,  the  higher  rise 
the  waves;  we  are  swept  forwards,  we  rock  u[)  anfl  down 
on  the  lumpy  lake,  and  fresh  cold  douches  are  constantly 
poured  over  us  from  the  crests  as  they  split  into  spray  like 
plumes  of  feathers.  How  small  and  helpless  we  feel  in  the 
presence  of  these  roused  infuriated  forces  of  Nature,  how 
imposing  and  awful,  and  yet  how  grand  and  splendid  is 
this  spectacle!  The  two  men  had  never  in  their  lives 
seen  anything  to  equal  it.  I  sit  with  my  back  to  the 
pursuing  billows,  but  the  men  have  them  before  their 
faces,  and  T  know  when  large  wa\-es  arc  api)roaching  by 
their  muttered  "Ya  Allah!"  Tundup  is  as  pale  as  he 
can  be  with  a  sun-tanned  skin;  Shukkur  Ali  seems  com- 
ywsed,  but  he  does  not  sing  to-day  as  he  dips  in  his  oar. 
Tundup  afterwards  confided  to  me  that  he  was  ([ulte  con- 
vinced that  we  should  i)erish. 

It  is  impossible  to  keep  my  eyeglasses  dry  anfi  citar, 
and  I  have  not  for  a  long  time  had  a  dry  thread  on  me. 
Shukkur  Ali  turns  round  and  says  that  the  monastery  is  in 


J 


Ui\ 


I40 


'J'RA\S-I1L>1ALAVA 


:-\     '< 


.i 


water, 
seems    to 
drizzling    rain, 


sight,  l)ut  it  is  too  far  for  my  eyes.  "Look  at  the  wave 
yonder."  I  call  out.  "  I^  it  'not"  Ix-autiful?"  He  smiles 
and  murmurs  his  "Va  AllaJ!  "  Its  crest  breaks  close  to 
us  like  a  waterfall,  and,  air  being  forced  into  the 
it  rises  again  in  bubljjing  foam  and  the  lake 
tioil  and  seethe.  Hitherto  there  has  Ix-en  '  ' 
but  now  the  air  is  clear.  The  lake  assumes  a  different 
hue,  the  waves  are  dark  and  bright,  close  to  us  black  as 
ink,  l)ut  lighter  towards  their  tips,  and  the  horizon  of  the 
lake  is  often  seen  tiirough  the  ne.\t  wave  as  through  a 
sheet  of  ice. 

Thus  we  are  driven  on.  and  the  time  seems  endless. 
For  five  quarters  of  an  hour  we  have  striven  with  the 
freaks  of  the  lake  gcxl,  and  every  minute  has  seemed  to 
us  an  hour.  .\t  last  the  monastery  (iossul  ai)pears  and 
grows  larger,  the  details  becoming  distinguishable,  and  I 
see  the  white  facade  with  its  upper  border  of  red,  its 
windows  and  roof  streanurs.  and  some  monks  behind  a 
balustrade  with  their  eyes  fi.xed  on  the  boat.  And  btdow 
the  cloister  terrace  there  is  wild  foaming  surf.  How  we 
are  to  land  I  cannot  imagine  ;  I  have  e.xperienced  such 
adventures  Ix-forc,  but  never  anything  as  furious  as  to-dav. 
We  envy  the  monks  up  above  with  firm  ground  under 
their  feet,  and  should  like  to  Ix'  beside  them.  The  log 
has  been  out  all  the  time,  and  now  I  draw  it  in  with  "a 
quick  pull  and  call  out  to  the  men  to  k-  ready  to  jump 
overboard  when  I  give  the  sign.  I  j)lace  the  note-book 
and  the  map  I  have  sketched  to-day,  all  dripping  with 
water,  into  the  front  of  my  leather  vest,  that  at  any  rate 
I  may  not  lose  the  figures  I  have  obtained. 

V.'e  have  only  a  few  minutes  more.  With  the  help  of 
Shukkur  Ali  I  manage  to  get  out  of  my  heavy  soaked 
boots,  and  have  scarcely  done  so  when  the'  boat  i's  pitched 
violently  into  the  breakers  on  the  shore.  Here  the  water 
is  as  l)rown  as  oatmeal,  and  the  undertow  sucks  out  the 
boat  again.  Xow  Tundup  Sonam  wishes  to  jump  out  of 
the  l)oat,  but  I  ad\-isc  him  to  try  first  with  the  oar  if  he 
can  reach  the  bottom;  he  feels  no  ground  and  has  to  wait 
patiently.  The  boat  receives  a  bk)w  from  l)ehind  and 
threatens   to   capsize;     the   oarsmen    work   as   if   they   were 


:;|.     I,  \\i  \   u  II II    I'l:  w  I  I'  I  im  \i. 


..:  i     WW     I  i  Mi  ;  ;     I J  ...^    i, 
Ski  tc  li.  -  In  lliL-  Auth'T. 


£  .1 


'»■. 


1^^ 

Is'"' 


I 


t*  I 


m 


'|.^ 


A  STORMY   VOYAGE 


141 


possessed  to  fight  against  the  undertow,  and  Ixfore  I  am 
aware  Tundup  has  jumped  out,  and,  up  to  hi>  breast  in 
water,  <lraws  the  Ixjat  shorewards  with  all  his  nilL^ht. 
Now  we  two  follow  his  e.\am|)le,  and  with  our  united 
strength  succeetl  at  last  in  drawing  the  Ixnit  up  the  heaeh 
Ix'fore  the  raging  surf  ean  dash  i»  to  pieces.  One  more 
hard  pull  and  we  have  drawn  it  up  over  the  mud  embank 
ment  into  the  lagoon,  which  the  waves  cannot  reach. 

Now  we  had  had  enough,  and  we  threw  ourselves 
down  on  the  sand,  quite  tired  out.  'J'he  fearful  excite- 
ment and  tension  of  Ixxly  and  mind  during  an  hour  and 
a  half  was  followed  by  stupor  and  weariness;  we  had 
nothing  to  say  to  one  another,  and  I  gave  no  orders  for 
the  night.  \Ve  were  shipwrecked  men,  and  had  every 
reason  to  be  pleased  and  thankful  that  we  had  tkm  ground 
under  our  feet  again,  and  had  escaped  safely  from  the 
green  graves  which  had  yawned  below  us,  threatening  to 
engulf  us  if  we  had  not  been  on  the  alert  in  critical 
moments. 

We  had  only  dozed  a  few  minutes  when  two  monks 
and  three  young  novices  came  gently  over  the  sand  and 
approached  us  cautiously,  as  if  they  were  not  quite  certain 
whether  wc  were  alive  or  dead.  When  we  got  up  they 
greetal  us  kindly,  and  inquired  how  we  were  and  whether 
we  needed  help.  They  were  deeply  interested,  and  told 
us  how  they  had  seen  from  their  balcony  the  lx)at  tossing 
on  the  waves,  and  had  been  convinced  that  it  must  founder 
in  the  unusually  violent  storm  that  had  swept  over  the 
lake.  They  had  Ixen  frightened  to  death,  and  said  that 
it  was  fearful  to  see  the  boat  sink  in  the  trough  of  the 
waves,  and  every  moment  they  expected  that  it  would  not 
appear  agai;i.  On  landing  \,e  were  immediately  below 
them,  and  the  sight  was  too  terrible.  Were  we  hurt  at 
all,  and  would  we  come  up  into  the  monastery  and  spend 
the  night  in  their  warm  rooms?  But  I  thanked  them  for 
their  kind  offers  and  preferred  to  sleep  as  usual  in  the 
open  air.  If  they  could  get  us  fuel  and  food  we  should  be 
much  obliged. 

They  bowed  and  disappeared  in  their  maze  of  stair- 
cases, and    presently  came   back  with  sacks  full   of   dung, 


4 


'IKA.NS  IIIMAI.AVA 


CIHl*. 


<  f 


,5 


142 

bru>Iiuoo.l.  an.l  l-ill- 1>.  ;in.l  xm.ii  a  ^'nunl  fire  was  burnin- 
„n  tlu-  trrra(i'.  'Huv  kitvlK.l  it  tin  nix  lu-,  f<.r  our 
mal(lu^  an-l  tiii'lir  w.iv  <iuil.'  umK-.  Ilun  lluv  wi  nt 
•  iff  I.)  I'.tdi  -Minr  calaM.-,  lor  tlic  .'.lUnit-  ..t  mir  pat  kil 
,,1"  i.inviMoii-^  Win-  tuninl   IiUm  pa-lc   I)y  thr  watir. 

M.aiiwhiU'     wr     inatlr     (.ur^L-lw-     (omfortahlc     on     llir 

IkIow    the    nioiia--tt.ry.     'l"\\o    lar;,'c 
lirraii',    lluir    vaults    Maik     with 


narrow  -tri|i  ot  ^routnl 
{av(>  o|n.iH(l  into  tlu 
smoki  f(.r  pilu'rim.  an.l  lunlMinii  -pciKl  the  ni^ht  in  thim. 
Thiy  ■  <'ul.l  haw  ^iK-ltcrid  u>  from  the  wind,  l.ut  tlu  y 
wrt'  -"  <lirtv  that  we  iinfcrnd  to  pitdi  our  lanip  at  thr 
f(l«c  of  llu''lxink.  it  ua>  \Mt  with  rain,  hut  wc  >craiH(l 
out  «lry  -and  with  our  han<l>.  Thr  boat  wa>  taken  to 
pieces  an.l  eni!.li..l  it  wa>  half  full  of  water  -an.l  then 
it   was  --et  U|)  liv  tlu-   tire  as  a  screen. 

When  the  fire  luid  burned  uji  and  was  <;l.)winf,'  hot, 
we  -lrii.i)e.l  ourselves  stark  nake.l,  wrunj,'  out  one  K-'mient 
after  another,  and  eroiuhe.l  !)y  the  lire  to  .Iry  our  un.ler- 
dothini^  and  ourselvi's.  Kadi  ha.l  to  look  alter  hiniHlf, 
for  wi"  were  all  in  the  >anie  pli.uht.  1  si>read  out  my 
thin<5s  as  near  as  posMble  to  the  lire  and  hun^'  them  over 
the  ")ars  an.l  lifed.u.)ys  t.)  exjxoe  them  to  the  wind  and 
heat.  Meanwhile  I  .'irie.l  my  wo.)llen  vest  bit  by  bit. 
turne.l  it  inside  out,  held  it  to  the  fire  .m  this  .si.lc  and 
that,  out  an.l  inside,  an.l  when  it  was  .(uite  dry  put  it  .m 
aj^ain  Then  came  the  turn  of  my  unmentionables,  then 
o?  my  stoekinl,^s,  an.l  so  .»n.  N.ithin^  e.ml.l  be  done  with 
the  leather  waiste.)at  an.l  the  fur  oat;  they  w.aild  n.it  be 
dry  tiy  ni;4ht,  but  what  .li.l  it  matter?  It  was  at  any  rate 
better' here  than  in  the  crystal  halls  of  the  lake  kin^'. 

It    is    still    br.)a.l    day'li^'ht,    luit     the    storm    raj,'es.    (iura 
Mandatta  an.l  all  the  c.'aintry  t.)  the  .south  has  .lisaj)i)yared, 
the  ^ale  is  i)assing  olT  in  that  direction.      There  is  fine 
Falcons    .scream    in     the    holes    .)f    the 


lor 


cl.ise    ram    agam 


peljhly    sl.jpes 


dangerous    nei<'hb.jurs    for    the    bluish-grey 


pii;e(>ns  oomg  on  the  rocks. 

"'Fhe  monks  came  d.)wn  again  with  sweet  and  sour 
niilk  and  ts,imha,  tea  we  ha.l  ourselves,  and  the  .simple 
dinner  tasted  delicious.  Then  we  .sit  a  oujtle  of  h.)urs 
by  the   fire   while  the   storm  continued.     I  dried   my  diary 


d/i, 


A   STORMY    V<»V\(;K 


14,^ 


.111(1  inttrtil  tlu'  iiotf^  uliitli  form  llu'  i(intiiit>  <it'  llii> 
« lui|)ti'r.  lUtwnn  uliili-,  Shukkiir  AM  inttrt.iiiit  d  nif 
with  .^torits  of  lii>  ;nl\(.iiliircs  diiriiii,'  hi-^  Ir.uiU  in  ttif 
MTvin'  (if  V()un^'luiNli.iii<l  and  Willliv.  XOu  that  lu'  liad 
t'>.(.a|)i(l  di'alli  Ia'  tlic  >kin  of  lii>  Iitlli.  the  [i.i'-t  icturnid 
more  vividly  lo  lii>  hk  iiinry,  and  uiaii  (  ik  r  ln'  \\a^ 
starti'd  on  lii>  rrminix  cmo  he  muld  iinl  he  >ti)|>iicd, 
pxxl  old  Shukkur  Ali.  1  li>l(.'ii((l  with  <  tx'  (ar  and  uroti' 
with  thf  oilur  1  had  almost  sai'I  not  to  apjuar 
iinintiTistid ;  and,  at'tir  all,  tlu'  chiil"  tliinL,'  to  Shukkur 
Ali    wa>   that    he   iduld    prattle. 

At  la-t  the  nortlurn  >ky  Ik  (onus  (liar,  and  all  the 
mountains  an-  white  with  snow;  before  (Hily  Kail.is  and 
its  next  neij^hhours  were  di^tinj^'uished  \>y  while  (.ips,  luit 
now  all  is  white.  We  're  eerlairdy  |'a>l  the  tarly  d.iys 
of  AuL^'uM.  but  is  it  |>o>sible  that  autumn  i-.  alre.idy  be}.,'in- 
niiiL,'.-'  The  >ummir  has  Iieen  so  short  tli.it  we  have 
liardlv   had   time   to  ^,'el   a(eu--tomed   to   it. 

Another  ni.^ht  falls  on  the  earth.  Impenetrable  dark- 
ni'ss  surrounds  us,  and  only  in  the  zdiith  a  few  st.irs 
sparkle.  The  .swell  still  roars  aj^ainst  the  .strand,  but 
Tso-mavang  is  j^ently  fallin.t,'  asleep.  Above  us  towers 
the  mona.stery  on  its  stee|)  wall  like  a  fortress,  and  the 
monks  have  retired  to  rest.  The  falcons  are  iieard  no 
more,  and  the  pigeons  have  .sought   their  nests. 


II 


V  I 


'h 


V  \ 


i^'r 


J'^ 


CHAPTER    XLVII 

ON   THE  ROOF   OF   THE   GOSSUL   MONASTERY 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  awaked  by  a  terrible  ro  v; 
a  dog  from  the  monastery  had  crept  under  my  men's  half 
of  the  boat  to  see  what  it  could  find,  but  chanced  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  Shukkur  Ali,  and  got  a  gcxxl  thrashing. 
The  temperature  fell  to  37.4°.  Rabsang  came  riding  up 
at  sunrise.  The  men  had  feared  that  we  must  have 
perished  in  the  waves.  He  brought  provisions  and  a 
packet  of  letters  from  Thakur  Jai  Chand,  the  British 
commercial  agent  in  Gartok,  who  was  at  the  time  in 
Gyanima,  where  the  fair  was  being  held.  He  wrote  that 
Colonel  Dunlop  Smith  had  directed  him  on  June  27 
to  try  to  obtain  news  of  me.  GufTaru  had  performed 
his  task  satisfactorily,  and  all  my  baggage  was  safely 
deposited  in  Gartok,  and  my  voluminous  correspondence 
had  been  forwarded  to  Simla  From  Mr.  Sherring,  v.ho 
had  made  a  journey  to  Manasarowar  .some  years  previously, 
I  received  a  very  kind  letter;  he  had  also  had  the  kindness 
to  send  me  his  interesting  book  on  western  Tibet,  while 
his  wife  had  added  a  whole  packet  of  English  and  French 
newspapers,  literature  the  more  acceptable  that  the 
extensive  library  presented  to  me  by  O'Connor  had 
long  been  read  through  and  dispersed  to  the  four  winds  of 
heaven.  It  was  a  singular  coincidci.cc  that  where  I  had 
suffered  .shipwreck  I  was  .so  unexpectedly  brought  again 
into  contact  with  the  outer  world. 

i  was  deeply  moved  by  Rabsang's  information  that  the 
monks  in  Tugii-gompa,  when  they  saw  the  storm  burst 
over  our   frail   boat,   had    burnt   incense   before   the  images 

«44 


ns' 


,t,'i 


CHAP.   XLVIl 


THE   GOSSUL   MONASTERY 


145 


of  the  god  and  implored  him  to  deliver  us  from  the 
lake-waves.  They  had  done  it  of  their  own  accord,  and  not 
at  the  request  of  any  one.  They  said  it  would  be  deplor- 
able if  we  were  lost;  they  had  a  heart,  and  ',vcre  not  so 
unfeeling  as  might  be  supposed.  Few  proofs  of  sympathy 
have  touched  me  like  this. 

Accompanied  by  Rabsang,  1  ascended  in  the  early 
morning  the  winding  path  up  to  the  monastery.  At  the 
turnt  and  projections  stand  cubical  chhortcns  and  votive 
cairns,  and  here  and  there  a  streamer  flutters  on  a  mast. 
A  sa.nkanf^,  a  hermit's  dwelling,  hangs  over  a  cavern 
produced  by  the  fall  of  a  huge  mass  from  the  slope  of 
the  pcbblf  terrace  eleven  years  ago.  I  told  the  monks 
that  they  should  not  put  too  much  confidence  in  the 
ground  on  which  their  monastery  stands.  They  reckon 
millions  of  years  for  the  soul's  wanderings,  but  their 
earthly  dwellings  are  not  built  for  eternity.  They 
answered  calmly  that  the  monastery  had  already  stood  for 
one  hundred  years,  and  that  it  would  certainly  stand  as 
long  as  they  were  living  there;  for  in  general  the  monks  are 
changed  every  three  years,  and  they  come  here  from  the 
monastery  Shibeiing  in  Purang,  by  which  they  are  main- 
tained. There  are  only  three  of  them,  but  I  saw  also 
four  novices,  seven,  nine,  ten,  and  eleven  years  old 
respectively,  running  about  as  actively  as  mice,  and 
v.-aiting  on  the  monks.  Their  mother,  a  nun  from  Purang, 
also  lives  in  the  monastery.  She  had  been  married  befo'c 
she  "took  the  veil,"  and  when  her  husband  died  slv^ 
dedicated  herself  and  all  her  children  to  the  Church.^  1 
afterwards  learned  that  one  of  the  "boys"  was_  a  girl; 
they  were  so  like  one  another  that  I  could  not  distinguish 
between  them.  At  first  they  were  shy  and  limid,  but 
after  I  had  given  them  a  few  silver  coins  they  were  soon 
at  ease  with  me.  They  appeared  small  and  stunted  for 
their  age,  but  the  abbott  told  me  that  they  had  mourned 
so  much  at  the  death  of  their  father  that  their  growth  was 
checked.  Almost  all  the  day  they  were  bringing  water 
from  the  lake  in  clay  jugs,  which  they  carried  in  a  basket 
suspended  by  a  strap  round  their  forehead;  they  carry 
therefore   with   the   muscles  of   the   head   and  neck,  which 


TM 


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VOL.  II 


'-•■-!' 
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146 


TRAXS- HIMALAYA 


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►  1' 


# 

I  f 


arc  consequently  so  much  developed  that  they  seem  too 
large  for  the  body.  But  they  also  recei\  instruction  and 
take  their  first  uncertain  steps  in  the  domain  of  wisdom; 
the  eldest  is  said  to  have  already  acquired  considerable 
knowledge. 

I  went  into  the  temiilc  and  studied  it  thoroughly.  I 
remained  there  twelve  hours,  drew,  took  measuiements, 
made  all  kinrls  of  inquiries,  and  took  notes.  Every  part 
is  handsome,  interesting,  and  well  kept.  The  lhahan<^  is 
like  an  old  ;irmoury,  a  museum  of  fine,  rare  articles,  which 
show  great  artistic  skill,  and  have  been  designed,  carved, 
modelled,  and  painted  with  unwearied  patience  and  real 
taste.  The  hall,  supported  by  eight  jiillars,  has  two  red 
divans;  a  statue  of  Huddha  in  gilded  bronze,  and  a  number 
of  other  idols;  drums  hanging  in  stands,  lacquered  tables 
with  the  usual  religious  objects,  and  a  large  quantity  of 
votive  bowls  in  the  brightest  brass  and  of  uncommon, 
tasteful  forms.  On  both  sides  of  the  pillars  hang  tankas 
in  four  rows,  which  are  as  long  as  standards  and  triumphal 
banners,  and  are  so  arranged  that  they  do  not  prevent  the 
light  from  playing  on  the  faces  of  the  gods.  In  a  corner 
surely  waves  a  Swedish  flag?  Ah,  it  is  only  a  blue  and 
yellow  taiika,  but  it  reminds  me  of  the  golden  period  of 
our  fame  and  victories. 

The  Ihakang  of  Gossul  is  not  built  on  the  u.sual  plan ; 
the  skylight  is  wanting,  and  instead  there  arc  three 
windows  in  the  facade  facing  the  lake.  Rut  the  gods  do 
not  see  the  lake,  for  the  windows  are  pasted  over  with 
paper  on  a  trellis-work  of  laths.  Why  is  the  beautiful 
view  concealed  and  the  daylight  excluded?  To  enhance 
the  mystical  gloom  within  and  excite  the  greater  wonder 
and  reverence  in  the  minds  of  the  {)ilgnms  who  come  in 
half-blinded  from  the  daylight,  and  that  they  may  not  see 
that  the  gold  is  only  gildecl  brass,  and  that  the  marks  of 
the  brush  and  the  chisel  may  not  be  too  profanely  evident. 
The  ])oorer  a  monastery,  the  darker  are  its  temple  halls; 
the  darkness  hides  their  poverty  and  helps  the  monks  to 
imj)ose  on  the  faithful. 

Somch.unL'  is  ih.e  n-'ime  of  a  sm.;i!l  conin;\rtm.ent  no 
larger    than    a    cabin.     On    its    divan    are    cushions    and 


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£-1 


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XLVII 


THE   GOSSUL   MONASTERY 


147 


pieces  of  cloth  arranged  in  circles  to  form  two  nests,  in 
which  two  monks  sit  during  the  night  service.  On  the 
altar  table  before  Sakya-muni's  image  stand  forty  bowls 
filled  with  water,  and  on  another  table  somt'  peacock's 
feathers  in  a  silver  vase,  with  which  the  gods  are  sprinkled 
with  holy  water  to  the  cry  "Om  a  hum." 

In  former  times  robbers  and  foot-pads  harboured  here, 
and  had  their  hiding-places  in  the  caves  below  the  monas- 
tery. From  these  they  fell  upon  the  pilgrims  and  killed 
many  of  them.  Then"  the  god  of  Tso-mavang  apjjeared 
to  Jimpa  Xgurbu,  a  noble  lama,  and  ordered  him  to  build 
the  monastery,  that  it  might  be  a  sure  stronghold  for  the 
l)rotection  of'  pilgrims,  and  for  the  honour  of  the  gods. 
Even  now  the  country  is  not  safe.  Last  year  two 
scoundrels,  who  had  plundered  the  nomads,  were  taken 
and  executed,  and  we  our.sclves  saw  ten  Gurkhas,  armed 
with  guns,  who  rode  past  us  in  search  of  a  rubber  band 
which  had  stolen  their  hor.ses   uid  sheep. 

The  monks  said  that  the  lake  usually  freezes  in  January ; 
in  stormy  weather  the  ice  breaks  up,  but  when  the  weather 
is  calm  and  the  frost  is  sharp,  the  whole  lake  free/.es  over 
in  a  single  dav,  and  breaks  up  again  in  a  single  day  when 
it  is  stormy.'  Unfortunately  the  statements  made  about 
the  level  of'  the  water  and  the  discharge  are  contradictory 
and  untrustworthy.  A  lama,  thirty-five  years  of  age,  now 
staying  here,  had  lived  on  Tso-mavang  as  a  child.  He 
said  that  he  well  remembered  the  time  when  the  water 
iaowcd  out  of  the  lake  to  Rakas-tal  in  such  riuantiUes  that 
a  horseman  could  not  cross  the  channel,  which  is  called 
Ganga,  without  danger.  But  now  this  channel  had  ceased 
to  carry  water  for  nine  years.  I  was  shown  where  the 
shore  line  ran  last  autumn,  five  fathoms  farther  inland, 
so  that  the  lake  must  then  have  been  22},  inches  higher. 
I  was  also  shown  a  yellow  block  of  stone,  to  which  the 
water  was  sjiid  to  have  reached  twelve  years  ago,  and  this 
point  lay  loi  feet  above  the  present  level  of  the  lake. 
Such  a  rate  of  fall  is  improbable,  though  this  statement 
accorded  fairly  well  with  the  information  I  had  received  at 
Tugu-gompa. '  The  threshold  of  the  one  cave  lay  now 
22.57    feet,    and    that    of    the    other     120.4    ft-ct     from    the 


148 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


Iln 


'!• 


shore,  18.86  feet  above  the  water.  I  was  told  that  when 
the  monastery  was  built,  one  hundred  years  ago,  the  lake 
had  reached  Ixjth  these  caves,  and  that  only  a  small  path 
was  left  along  the  strand  by  which  the  caves  could  be 
approached.  However,  the  dates  of  the  I'ilx'tans  arc 
exceedingly  uncertain,  and  to  arrive  at  safe  conclusions 
we  must  resort  to  the  statements  of  Kuroj)ean  travellers. 
I  will  make  a  few  remarks  on  them  later.  When  I  asked 
one  of  the  monks  what  Ix^came  of  all  the  water  poured 
into  Tso-mavang  by  all  the  rivers  and  brooks,  he  replied : 

"However  much  it  rains,  and  though  all  the  tributaries 
arc  full  to  overflowing,  no  change  is  noticeable  in  the  lake, 
for  as  much  water  is  evaporated  as  flows  in.  In  our  holy 
books  it  is  written  that  if  all  the  triljutaries  failed,  the  lake 
would  not  sink  and  disappear,  for  it  is  eternal  and  is  the 
abode  of  high  gods.  But  now  we  see  with  our  own  eyes 
that  it  is  always  falling,  and  we  do  not  know  what  this 
means." 

The  following  records  may  be  useful  to  future  explorers: 
the  lower  edge  of  the  massive  threshold  of  the  main  gate- 
way in  the  facade  of  Gossul-gomjja  lay  on  August  8,  1907, 
exactly  122.7  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lake,  as  I 
ascertained   by  the  help  of  a  reflecting  level. 

We  ascended  to  the  roof  of  Gossul-gompa.  It  is  flat, 
as  usual,  with  a  chimney,  parapet,  and  streamers.  No 
language  on  earth  contains  words  forcible  enough  to  de- 
scribe the  view  from  it  over  the  lake.  It  was,  indeed,  much 
the  same  as  we  had  seen  from  various  points  on  the  shore, 
but  the  light  and  shade  was  so  enchanting  and  the  colour- 
ing so  wonderful  that  I  was  amazed,  and  felt  my  heart  beat 
more  strongly  than  usual  as  I  stepped  out  of  the  dark 
temple  halls  on  to  the  open  platform.  Tundup  Sonam 
said  in  his  simple  way  that  the  lake  with  its  encircling 
mountains  seemed  like  the  sky  with  its  light  clouds.  I, 
too,  was  the  victim  of  an  illusion  which  almost  made  me 
catch  at  the  parapet  for  support.  I  wondered  whether  it 
was  a  lit  of  giddiness.  I  took,  to  wit,  the  border  of 
mountains  on  the  eastern  shore  for  a  Ixlt  of  light  clouds, 
and  the  surface  of  the  sea  for  part  of  the  sky.  The  day 
was  perfectly  calm  and  the  lake  like  a  mirror,  in  which  the 


i'' 


n 


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111 


2;S        A     Dkt WIFR.        I,\\!\    l\    \' \Nr,(;()-r;ii\l|.  \    (IS     M  \N  \S\R(P\\  \R. 

Drawn  l.\-  T.  M.n  I'.irl.mc  Imm  ,i  Ski-t(  li  In  tin-  Autli  >r. 


il.' 


n  !> 


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ii! 


:•'■( 


1 


XLVII 


THE   GOSSUL    MONASTERY 


149 


sky  was  reflected;  both  looked  exactly  the  same,  and  were 
of  the  same  colour,  and  the  mountains,  which  in  con- 
sequence of  the  distance  were  all  blended  into  a  dark 
shadow,  were  like  a  f^irdle  of  clouds.  The  air  was  not 
clear,  everythini?  was  of  a  dull  sulxlued  tone,  there  was 
no  colour  to  speak  of,  but  all  was  grey  —  sky,  land,  and 
water,  with  a  tin<;c  of  blue,  .:  fairy  scene  of  glass,  with 
decorations  of  white  gauze  seen  through  a  thin  blue  veil 
of  incense  rising  from  the  altar  of  the  mighty  god  of  the 
lake. 

What  has  become  of  the  earth,  if  all  is  sky  and  clouds? 
We  are  not  totally  bewitched,  for  we  are  standing  on  the 
roof  of  the  monastery  leaning  against  the  parapet.  A 
dream-picture  in  the  most  ethereal  transitory  tones  floats 
Iwforc  us.  Wc  seem  to  stand  on  a  promontory  jutting 
out  into  endless  space,  which  yawns  around  us  and  in 
front.  And  where  is  now  the  holy  lake,  which  yesterday 
nearly  roblml  us  of  life,  and  on  which  the  storm  was  so 
fur-ious  that  I  still  seem  to  feel  the  ground  quaking  under 
my  feet?  Has  the  Gossul  monastery  been  changed  by 
some  whim  of  the  go<ls  into  an  air-ship  which  is  bear- 
ing us  away  to  another  planet?  Its  streamers  hang 
mi)tionless  on  their  poles,  and  nothing  can  be  seen  of 
the  mountains,  country,  and  ground. 

"(Jh  yes,  if  you  lean  a  little  over  the  parapet,"  says 
a  monk,  smiling!  True!  Then  the  illusion  vanishes,  to 
my  great  chagrin.  I  should  have  liked  to  remain  awhile 
under  its  enchantment.  Just  Ix'Iow  us  runs  the  narrow 
margin  on  the  bank,  with  its  black  dam  of  clay  and  water- 
weeds,  and  its  elongated  lagoons.  Through  the  crj'Stal 
clear  water  we  sec  the  yellowish-grey  mud  on  the  lake 
bottom,  the  dark  fringe  of  weeds,  and  the  dark  depths 
beyond.  It  is  like  a  huge  aquarium  covered  with  plate- 
glass.  Two  flocks  of  geese  are  swimming  on  the  water, 
producing  diverging  ripples.  All  is  so  indescribably  quiet; 
so  ethereal,  transparent,  and  transitory,  so  subtile  and 
sensitive,  that  I  scarcely  dare  breathe.  Never  has  a 
church  service,  a  wedding  march,  a  hymn  of  victory,  or 
a  funeral  made  a  more  powerful  impression  on  me. 

Did  fate  compel  me  to  pass  my  life  in  a  monastery  in 


J\ 


4 


ISO 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


: 


f 


'  I 


t|» 


♦ 

:i; 


Tibet,  I  would  without  lusitation  choose  Gossul-RoraiKi. 
'rhrre  I  wouM  ohsirvc  the  llu(tu;itions  of  the  hike  and  the 
auiuuil  curves  of  the  temperature.  I  \voul<l  sit  up  there 
hke  a  watehinan.  i^aze  over  the  hike,  and  watch  how  it> 
aspect  chan;,'ed  every  hour  duriiiL,'  the  twelve  months  of 
the  year.  I  would  listen  to  the  howling  ol  the  autumn 
storms,  and  would  notice  on  calm  XovemlxT  days  how  ihi- 
belt  of  i(  e  aloni,'  the  >hore  broadened  from  day  t(j  day,  if 
only  to  melt  aj^^ain  in  the  course  of  a  day.  The  rini,'  of  i(e 
would  creej)  on  ever  nearer  to  the  middle  of  the  lake,  Ik- 
(listrovi'd  attain  and  a,t;ain  by  new  gales,  and  then  lx\t,'in 
a,i;ain  to  enchain  the  waters.  Ami  at  length,  on  a  day  in 
January,  when  the  'avers  of  water  were  cooled  through  and 
through  and  no  wind  disturbed  the  air,  I  should  -ee  the 
g(jil  of  Tso  mavang  stretch  a  ringing  roof  of  glass  .er  his 
green  palace,  and  the  winter  storms  bestrew  it  with  white 
powder  and  drive  the  whirling  snow  in  dense  clouds  over 
the  ice,  with  its  smooth,  dark-green  surface  jieeping  out 
here  and  there.  And  on  calm  days  the  lake  would  lie  a 
white  plain,  lifeless  and  lonely  under  its  white  shroud,  and 
I  should  sit  by  the  bier  of  my  friend  longing  for  the  sj)ring. 
In  vain  would  the  first  storms  of  spring  contend  with  the 
solidity  of  t!ie  ice  and  its  l)rave  resistance,  but  at  last  the 
sun  would  come  to  help  the  wind,  and  would  make  the  ice 
brittle  and  rotten.  Leads  and  fissures  would  start  up  in 
all  directions,  and  the  ne.xt  storm  that  swept  over  the  ice 
would  overcome  all  resistance,  flinging  about  the  ice  blocks 
and  jiiling  them  up  one  on  another,  driving  them  to  the 
shore,  and  sweeping  breakers  over  them  so  that  they 
would  be  crushed,  si)lintered,  pulverized,  and  melted  in 
the  rolling  surf.  Then  I  should  rejoice  at  the  victory  of 
the  storm,  the  rilease  of  Tso-mavang  and  its  restoration  to 
life,  and  would  listen  to  the  song  of  the  waves  and  the 
screaming  of  the  wihl-gcesc. 

Perhaps  an  hour  such  as  I  spent  at  the  parapet  of 
(jossuI  comes  c)nly  once  a  year.  The  elTect  is  the  result 
of  a  certain  temperature,  a  certain  j)erceniage  of  humidity, 
calm  air,  preceded  )w  rain  and  a  north-easti  rly  storm. 
How  seldom  are  all  these  conditions  fulfilled?  At  most 
once  a  year,  and  just  at  this  hour,  this  hour  of  all  hours,  I 


^'   ill 


l',i 


•V,ff--  -•-:iVO'^ 


"St^I  ■-} 


m 


zyi.      Tuh   '•:.:;   Xl-.    :-;    V^■■  ■>.•  ^>-ji'\. 
Skcti  h  l)v  tlie  Author. 


~MBiyy«j?s«»i»r.ys=siiagmi  jp.  ^it»a-^*-  .-r--*-5=y.a 


H'  I 


K!  (if 


IM 


I'. 


XLVU 


TlIK    (;<)SSIL    MONASILRV 


•SI 


st()(Kl  on  the  roof  and  saw  the  hluc-  lake  at  rest  after  its 
|)Iay. 

Wonderful,  attractive,  enchanting  lake  I  'I'lume  of 
story  and  le,^'end,  playj^'round  of  >torms  and  chan^-ies  of 
( nloiir,  ap])le  of  tile  v\\-  of  ^^ixls  and  men,  goal  of  weary, 
viarniiiL^  pilgrims,  holiot  of  the  hoiie>t  of  all  the  lakt-,  of 
the  world,  art  thoii,  Tm)  niavanj^.  lake  of  all  laki>>.  Nawl 
of  old  .\>ia,  wliire  four  of  the  nii)>t  fanioiN  river>  of  tlu' 
world,  the  l)rahnia]<>..ira,  the  Indu>,  the  Sutlej.  and  the 
(iant^es,  ri^i'  among  gigantic  peak-,  >inroun(k(l  liy  a  world 
of  mountains,  among  which  i>  Kailas.  the  nio>t  famou>  in 
the  world;  for  it  is  sat  red  in  the  eyes  of  hundreds  of 
millions  of  Hindus,  and  i>  the  centre  of  a  wreath  of 
monasteries  where  every  morning  blasts  of  conches  sound 
out  from  the  roofs  over  the  lake.  Axle  and  hu!)  of 
the  wheel,  which  is  an  image  of  life,  and  round  which  the 
pilgrims  wander  along  the  way  of  salvation  towards  the 
land  of  perfection.  That  is  Manasarowar,  the  pearl  of  all 
the  lakes  of  the  world.  Iloary  with  age  whin  the  l)oc)ks 
of  the  Veda  were  written,  its  blue  billows  have  in  the 
course  of  centuries  seen  innumerable  troops  of  faithful 
Hindus  and  Tibetans  arrive  at  its  banks,  there  to  drink, 
bathe,  and  fuid  rest  for  their  souls.  There  are  certainly 
more  beautiful  lakes  in  the  world.  Its  western  neighbour, 
for  instance,  Langak-tso,  is  more  pictures(|ue.  Hut  there 
is  none  which  unites  with  natural  beauty  such  an  influence 
on  the  faith  and  souls  of  men.  That  is  why  the  roar  of 
its  waves  is  so  attractive,  and  a  sojourn  on  its  shore  so 
fascinating.  Standing  up  on  the  convent  roof,  while 
silence  reigns  around,  one  fancies  one  hears  innumerable 
wanderers  apprcjaching,  and  the  echo  c;f  their  stumbling 
feet  on  the  holy  path  around  the  lake.  And  one  casts  a 
glance  into  the  night  of  past  centuries,  which  have  left  no 
trace  of  their  as])irations  and  vain  search  after  an  imaginary 
Ijlessedncss.  But  Tso-mavang  remains  the  same  as  it  was 
then,  and  its  azure-blue  eye  sees  new  generations  treading 
in  the  footsteps  of  the  old. 

After  such  an  hour  evervthing  else  seems  commonplace. 
Not  till  the  blush  of  evening  tlocjded  the  lake  with  a  purple 
tinge  could  I  tear  myself  away  and  go  down   to  my  camp 


H 


it 


i 


\ 


I'l.' 


I.  ''I 


i'»  1' 


1 


i'i< 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


on  the  shore  Once  more  I  turned  to  Tso-mavang  arid 
callal  <.ut  a  ioud  ,)r<,l.)ngecl  "'Om  a  hum."  Rabsang  said 
noth  n,  but  1  couM  see  that  he  was  won,  ering  whether 
ha !  b^com"  the  latest  convert  of  the  Lamaistic  church,  and 
ulh  the  riore  reason  Ix-cause  I  had  insisted  on  travelhng 
ound  the  lake  in  the  orthodox  direction -southwards  by 
the  east  bank  and  northwards  by  the  wes    bank. 

The  tracks  of  120  yaks  were  discermble  '"  th^/^"f' 
which  had  passed  northwards  in  the  morning  laden  with 
b  k  tai  An  old  Hindu,  who  was  performing  the  circui 
o  the  1  ke  in  the  same  direction  as  the  Tibetans,  lagged 
t  ^alil've,!  to  camp  beside  u.  l.cause  he  -^^^^^^ 
robbers;  we  regaled  him  with  tea  bread,  and  U)bacco  and 
1.0  n^k..  1  us  to  accept  a  handful  of  rice.  It  is  singular  inai 
hV      ;  u    .il  rS:  Ice,.  .0  h„l>:  'h»  Lan;ais.icm.,nas.c„es 

witn    us    in    i"^  iv,ll.,st      But   he   fo  owed   us   on   the 

fnWp   no   unnecessar\    oaiiasi.     ""»■    >"-  , 

W-    ns  ;<    rowe<r  through    the    surf    to    camp    No.   213, 

XnoftuTn  Ck  m  '!;■''.%.?".>  Vl.  n,i,M.c.  He  was 
certi  a  little  silly;  he  ba.l  take.l  nonsense  all  the 
evenbg.  though  no  one  had  listenej  to  h.m. 

Th'„ew|ne  "l^:"";:^ ^^Tt^'  A.  *e 
Sh°otl  -station  ^hf  ™l  Jetal  -Use  of  the  currcnt- 
rL    Vca.£en.n«,„.    in    .K   |«-^ 

rm^^^raUons' dowTlroV  the  crystal  clear  water  to 


11  ^ 
—    f 


f.i 


%\ 


I'J 


X 


fa 


■JiSf^-^ 


-^'! 


75^ 


!• 


It 


.•I 


i'>  1' 


1 1 


THE  GOSSUL   MONASTERY 


153 


a  depth  of  207  feet,  there  to  sleep  in  the  mud  of  Tso- 
mayang  till  the  day  of  judgment.  Fortunately  it  could 
easily  be  replaced. 

When  we  landed  at  the  monastery,  all  our  men,  and 
the  monks  and  the  pilgrims  on  the  shore,  were  there  to 
receive  us.  The  first  we  caught  sight  of  was  the  old, 
crazy  Hindu.  His  fellow-countrymen  had  taken  it  for 
granted  that  we  must  have  perished  in  the  storm,  and 
therefore  were  very  astonished  to  see  us  come  back  alive. 
But  as  I  was  now  here  again,  they  thought  that  they  might 
take  advantage  of  it,  and  asked  me  to  present  them  one 
and  all  with  new  trousers,  a  request  that  I  considered 
very  importunate. 

On  August  10  I  sat  in  my  tent  door  and  painted 
Kailas  in  different  lights.  Its  white  summit  stood  out  cold  and 
bare  against  a  bright  blue  cloudless  sky,  and  the  lake  was 
of  a  deep,  dazzling  ultra-marine.  When  a  breeze  swept  over 
the  surface  it  was  in  the  distance  like  clear  green  malachite. 
After  sunset  the  sky  was  orange-coloured,  and  the  lake,  of  just 
the  same  colour,  reflected  the  outlines  of  the  mountains  in 
quivering  serpentine  lines.  The  evening  before  the  whole 
western  horizon  had  glowed  with  bright  red  flames. 


<<i 


}i 


I!  I   • 


-1 


,  r 


M 


CHAPTER   XLVIII 

OIP  LAST  DAYS  OX  TSO-MAVANG 

At  this  time  RoIktI  had  jxTfcctcd  liimsclf  more  than  I  in 
the  Tibetan  language,  and  he  talked  it  almost  _  fluently. 
Theref(jre,  while  my  whole  time  was  taken  up  with  other 
work,  he  was  able  to  obtain  information  about  the  country 
and  peoi)le,  and  perform  certain  tasks  I  set  him.  On  the 
left,  shorter  wall  of  the  vestibule  of  Tugu-gompa  was  an 
inscription  for  the  enlii;htenment  of  i)ilgrims,  and  this 
Rdljert  now  translated  into  Hindustani  c-d  English. 
Freely  rendered   it  runs  as  follows: 

Tso-mavang  is  the  holiest  place  in  the  world.  In  its  centre 
dwells  a  god  in  human  form,  who  inhabits  a  tent  composed  of 
turquoise  and  all  kinds  of  i)rccious  stones.  In  the  midst  of  it 
grows  a  tree  with  ,  thousand  branches,  and  every  branch  contains 
a  thousand  cells  in  which  a  thousand  lamas  live.  The  lake  tree 
has  a  double  crown,  one  rising  like  a  sunshade  and  shading  Kang- 
rinpoche,  the  other  overshadowing  the  whole  world.  E^^ch  of  the 
102  2  branches  bears  an  image  of  a  god,  and  all  these  images  turn 
their  faces  towards  Gossul-gompn,  and  in  former  times  al;  the  gods 
gathered  together  here.  Once  golden  water  was  fetched  from  the 
lake,  and  wUh  it  the  face  of  HUibun  Rinpoche  in  Chiu-gompa  was 
gilded,  and  what  was  left  was  used  to  gild  the  temple  roofs  of 
Tashi-lunpo.  In  old  times  the  water  of  the  lake  flowed  over  a 
pass  named  Pakchu-la  to  the  Ganga-chimbo.  Water  flows  into 
the  lake  from  all  sides,  cold,  warm,  hot,  and  cool.  Water  passes 
from  the  lake  to  the  Ganga-shei  and  comes  back  again.  \'apour 
rises  annually  from  the  lake  and  hovers  over  it  once  in  the  year, 
and  then  sinks  down  into  the  centre,  and  the  next  year  theprocess 
is  repeated.  It  any  one  brings  up  tiay  ironi  the  middle  oi  the  iaKC, 
that  clav  is  really  gold.  The  lake  is  the  property  of  the  lake-god. 
The   lake   is   the   central  point   of   the   whole   world.     Sambu  Tashi 

IS4 


i^ 


1)' 


cuAP.xLvni    OUR   LAST  DAYS  OX  TSO-MAVAXG     155 

grew  out  of  the  lake  tree.  Sochim  Pema  Dabge  is  of  very  holy, 
clear,  and  pure  water.  The  Gyai,ar  Shilki  chhorten  stands  in  the 
lake.  The  palace  of  the  lakc-goil  is  in  the  lake.  .Ml  the  lamas 
there  recite  their  prayers  with  one  voice.  All  the  pods  assemble 
together  in  the  lake  and  sit  there  among  chlwrtens  of  all  kinds, 
embellished  with  gold  and  precious  stones.  The  spirit  king  of  the 
southern  land  resides  here  in  a  golden  house,  and  is  not  angry 
when  any  one  comes  to  wash  and  purify  himself.  If  we  pray  to  the 
spirit  king  of  the  southern  land,  we  shall  be  very-  wealthy  and 
fortunate.  Four  large  rivers  and  four  small  flow  out  of  the  lake  by 
underground  channels.  The  four  large  ones  are  one  warm,  one 
cold,  one  hot,  and  one  cool.  (Tlie  Karnali,  Brahmaputra,  Indus, 
and  Sutlej.)  If  any  one  washes  in  the  lake,  he  is  cleansed  from  sin 
and  all  im[)urities.  If  .Tiy  one  washes  once  in  the  lake,  the  sins  of 
his  forefathers  are  f'  vcn,  and  their  s'luls  are  relieved  from 
purgatorial  fires.  Da^  .ng  Xgacha  came  with  500  pilgrims  from 
Kang-rinpoche  to  wash  in  the  lake.  Lo  Mato  Gyamo  met  him 
and  begged  him  to  come  to  Tso-mavang.  Datping  Xgacha  and 
the  pilgrims  came  with  heaps  of  flowers  and  strewed  them  in  the 
lake.  Datping  Ngacha  went  three  times  round  the  lake  and  then 
ascended  into  heaven. 


.-I' 


Of  particular  interest  '  the  .suggestion  made  here 
that  the  four  large  rivers  stream  out  of  Tso-mavang  by 
subterranean  pa.s.sages.  As  regards  the  Sutlej  this  belief 
is,  in  my  opinion,  quite  correct.  I  was  told  that  the  fifth 
Tashi  Lama,  who.sc  mausoleum  we  had  seen  in  Tashi- 
lunpo,  once  made  the  pilgrimage  to  T.so-mavang  and 
went  down  to  the  shore  at  Tugu-gompa  to  offer  a  kadakh 
to  the  lake-god.  The  ka'hkh  remained  sus{)ended  in  the 
air,  that  is,  it  was  actually  hanging  on  one  of  the  branches 
of  the  holy  tree,  but  as  the  tree  is  only  visible  to  Rlnpoches 
and  genuine  incarnations,  the  kadakh  seemed  to  ordinary 
mortals  to  hang  alone  in  the  air. 

On  August  1 1  wc  bade  a  long  farewell  to  the  amiable 
monks  of  Tugu-gompa,  and  gave  them  liberal  presents. 
They  accompanied  us  down  to  the  shore,  when  we  put  off 
vjn  our  voyage  westwards.  Into  a  large  lagoon  of  the 
shore,  brown  and  dirty  owing  to  the  numerous  gulls  and 
wild  geese  which  here  wallow  in  the  mud,  a  brook  from 
(iurla  Mandatta  runs,  and  now  discharges  37.8  cubic  feet  of 
water  in  a  second.  All  the  way  along  runs  a  rubbi.sh 
heap,  the    continuation    of    the    pebble    terrace    on    which 


156 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


In: 


[I /I 


rr 


I! 


TuRU-gompa  stands.  The  lake  bcfl  consists  sometimes 
of  sand,  sometimes  of  detritus  —  offshoots  of  the  detritus 
cone  of  C.urla  Mandatta.  Large  collections  of  weeds  form 
dark  patches.  Up  above,  at  the  mouths  of  two  valleys  of 
Gurla,  are  seen  foaming  streams,  and  it  is  .strange  that 
they  do  not  debouch  into  the  lake.  But  the  explanation 
is  easy.  Twenty  to  fifty  yards  from  the  bank  numerous 
small  'holes  in  the  sand  of  the  lake  bed  open  and  close 
like  the  valves  of  an  artery,  and  the  .surface  of  the  lake 
above  them  bubbles.  These  are  springs.  The  streams  dis- 
appear in  the  detritus  cone,  and  the  water  runs  below  over 
impermeal)le  layers  of  glacial  clay.  At  the  edge  of  the 
cone  the  water  comes  up  again  under  the  surface  of  the 
lake.  I  perceived,  then,  that  I  must  gauge  the_  rivers  at 
the  points  where  they  emerge  from  the  mountain  valleys, 
if  I  would  ascertain  the  exact  amount  of  the  tribute  Tso- 
mavang   receives. 

Near  camp  218,  quite  clo.se  to  the  .shore,  a  .spring  came 
to  the  .surface,  and  where  it  welled  up  it  had  a  temperature 
of  38.1°,  and  therefore  brought  down  the  cold  of  the 
glaciers  to  the  lake.  As  the  melted  water  of  the  Gurla 
glaciers  retains  its  low  temperature  on  its  subterranean 
course,  it  probably  assists  in  keeping  the  water  of  the  lake 
cool  during  the  summer.  Whole  shoals  of  fish  sported  at 
the  surface  of  the  water,  and  snapped  at  plumed  gnats, 
which  were  gathered  in  thick  clouds. 

On  August  12  I  rode  with  Rabsang  and  a  Tibetan  up 
to   the    foot   of    Gurla    Mandatta.    We   crossed    the   great 
highway  between  Tugu-gompa  and    Purang.    A  wolf    took 
to  flight;  occasionally   a  hare   leapt   up  out   of  the   steppe 
grass,  and    locusts    flew    about    noisily.     We    rode    into    the 
mouth  of  the  Namreldi  valley,  a  resort  of  robbers,  and  its 
crystal    stream,    between    walls    of    solid  rock,    carried    loi 
cubic  feet  of  water,  as  compared  to  the  37.8  cubic  feet  at  the 
place    where    it    enters   the   lake.     The   rest   of    the    water, 
therefore,   pours  into   the  lake   under   the  detritus.     A   few 
miles  farther  west  we  halted  at  the  mouth  of  the  Selung- 
urdu   valley,   which   has   a   glacier   in   its   upper   part.    At 
half-past   nine   o'clock   the   bed   was  dry,   but   at   half-past 
one   a    river   with   rapids   and    waterfalls   poured   down    a 


,t '. 


xLviii        OUR   LAST  DAYS   OX   TSO-MAVAXG        157 


volume  of  63.9  cubic  feet  of  exceedingly  muddy  water, 
which  reached  the  lake  in  the  subterranean  springs.  The 
view  from  this  elevated  spot  is  magnificent.  We  have  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  Tso-mavang,  and  in  the  west  gleams 
the  bright  blue  Langak-tso.  The  survey  we  can  here 
take  of  the  country  is  very  instructive.  The  denudation 
cones  of  Gurla  Mandatta,  consisting  of  sand,  rubbish,  and 
Ijoulders,  extend  northwards  like  inverted  spoons;  their 
extremities  dip  under  the  surface  of  the  lake,  and  cause 
the  fluctuating  depths  sounded  on  lines  i  and  2.  From 
camp  218  Robert  executed  a  line  of  .soundings  at  right 
angles  to  the  bank  down  to  a  depth  of  190  feet. 

Every  day  with  its  ob.servalions  brought  me  nearer  to 
the  solution  of  the  problem  I  had  proi)()sed  to  myself.  As 
we  nxle  northwards  on  the  13th  along  the  western  shore 
we  digged  wells  at  some  places  10  yards  from  the  bank. 
The  ground  consisted  of  alternate  layers  of  s;ind  ami  clay: 
on  the  top  sand,  then  a  layer  of  decaying  vegetable 
remains;  then  a  foot  and  a  half  of  sand  which  rested  on 
clay.  A  pit  2  feet  deep  slowly  filled  with  water  up  to 
the  same  level  as  the  surface  of  the  lake.  The  water 
permeates  the  sand  and  rests  on  the  clay.  If  this  layer 
of  clay  stretches,  as  seems  likely,  across  the  narrow 
isthmus  to  the  shore  of  Langak-tso,  it  is  evident  that 
the  water  of  T.so-mavang  filters  through  the  beds  of  sand 
and  pebbles  to  the  western  lake.  I  was  already  convinced 
that  even  now  when  the  old  canal  has  ceased  to  act,  an 
underground  connection  must  exist  between  the  two  lakes. 
But  the  fact  that  the  water  of  Tso-mavang  is  quite  sweet 
is  no  proof  that  the  lake  has  an  outlet,  seeing  that  it  is 
only  a  few  years  since  the  canal  was  silted  up. 

Again  we  encamped  below  the  hospitable  monastery 
Go.ssul.  On  August  15  I  rode  with  Rabsang  and  a 
Til)ctan  across  the  hilly  isthmus  between  the  two  lakes  in 
order  to  get  a  look  at  the  country  on  this  side  also.  We 
ascended  sharply  to  the  highest  |X)int  of  the  ridge,  where 
there  is  a  fine  view  over  Langak-tso  with  its  picturesque 
rocky  shores  and  projecting  points  and  capes,  its  bays  and 
islands,  and  its  frame  of  steep  mountains.  In  form  it  is 
very  different  from  its  neighbour,  which  is  round  and  has 


<*. 


^BBlSSrSSISSS.^^gi^f'SSS^S^ 


-sti«* . 


158 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


'! 
I.  ."( 


'»). 


Ml 


no  islands.  Wc  stood  at  a  height  of  16,033  fci-t,  and 
therefore  were  ^)^•^  feet  ahove  tlie  surface  of  Manasa- 
rowar.  Then  we  rode  down  a  valley  clothed  with  hrush- 
Wf)od.  which  emer^a's  on  to  the  Hat.  irregularly  curved 
shore  belt.  Here  are  old,  very  plainly  marked,  >h()re 
lines,  the  hi,L,'hest  67.9  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake. 
When  the  Lan^ak-tso  stood  .^o  hi,t,'h  it  had  an  outlet  to 
the  Sutlej,  and  the  old  bed  of  this  river  may  be  .seen 
leading'  otT   from   the   north-eastern   corner  of   the   lake. 

A  strong  south  wind  bleu,  and  rolled  the  waves  to 
the  shore,  where  I  sat  a  j^'oikI  hour,  drawing  and  making 
observations.  Then  we  nnle  again  over  the  i.sthmus,  at 
its  lov.est  (15.289  feet)  and  broadest  place.  A  salt  .swamp, 
begirt  by  hills,  lies  on  its  eastern  half,  f|uite  close  to  the  shore 
of'^Tso-'mavang,  with  its  surface  7.7  feet  above  that  of 
the  lake.  In  the  sand  and  rubbish  between  the  two 
arc  abundant  streams  of  water,  passing  from  the  lake  to 
the  swamp.  The  swamj)  lies  in  a  Hat  hollow  of  day, 
in  which  the  water  evaporates,  and  the  trilling  ([uantitics 
of  salt  contained  in  the  lake  water  accumulate.  At  this 
place,  then,  the  water  of  the  eastern  lake  is  prevented 
from  seeping  through  io  the  western. 

The  following  day  we  .sailed  with  a  favourable  wind 
to  the  north-western  corner  of  Tso  mavang.  where  Chiu- 
gompa  stands  on  a  pyramid  of  rock.  Tliis  spot,  camp 
Xo.  219,  was  to  Ix^  our  headquarters  for  several  days. 
The  outline  of  Tso-mavang  is  like  that  of  a  skull  seen 
from  the  front,  and  wc  had  now  to  exjjlore  the  very  top. 
A  day  of  rest  was  devoted  to  a  preliminary  investigation 
of  the  channel  where  several  cold  and  hot  springs  ri.se 
up;  two  of  the  latter  had  temperatures  of  11 7°  and  122° 
respectively,  while  in  testing  the  third  a  thermometer 
graduated  up  to  150°  did  not  suffice,  and  the  tube  burst. 
A  spring  of  117°  in  a  walled  basin  is  said  to  be  u.sed  as 
a  me(lic\il  bath,  but  one  must  be  a  Tibetan  to  stew  in 
water  so  hot.  A  small  stone  cabin  beside  it  serves  as 
a  dressing-room.  A  little  further  down  the  channel  _  is 
s])anncd  i)y  a  bridge  constructed  of  f()ur  beams  resting 
on  two  stone  piers;  it  is  in  e.xlraordinariiy  go(xi  conaiuuii, 
and   is  another  proof  that  the  canal   rontained  water  not 


i^! 


XLVI.I      OUR  LAST  DAYS  ON  TSO-MAVANG         159 


so  very  long  ago.  On  the  piers  of  the  bridge  water 
marks  are  still  conspicuous  i8J  inches  above  the  present 
stagnant  pools,  smelling  of  sulphur  and  full  of  slimy 
weeds,  which  are  fed  by  springs.  Young  wild-geese 
were  swimming  in  one  of  them,  and  had  great  diflkulty 
in  protecting  themselves  from  the  brown  puppy. 

Chiu-gompa,  the  fifth  of  the  eight  monasteries  of  the 
lake  which  I  visitetl,  is  small,  and  contains  fifteen  lamas 
who  enter  it  for  life,  while  the  abbot  is  changed  every 
three  years.  It  owns  some  yaks,  500  goats,  and  100 
sheep,  which  are  employed  in  transporting  salt  to  Purang, 
where  the  monks  barter  it  for  barley.  One  monk,  a 
youth  twenty  years  of  age,  named  Tsering  Tundup,  is  one 
of  the  Tibetans  whom  I  think  of  with  particularly  kind 
and  warm  feeling.  His  mother  also  lived  in  the  monastery, 
and  looked  after  the  sheep  and  goats  when  they  were 
driven  in  the  evening  into  the  pcnfolds.  He  was  unusually 
handsome,  refined,  amiable,  and  obliging,  and  showed  me 
everything  with  full  explanations.  From  his  small  bare 
cell  he  could  dream  and  gaze  at  the  holy  lake  in  the  east, 
and  could  see  on  the  west  Langak-tso,  despised  by  the 
gods,  but  yet  he  was  melancholy,  and  on  that  account  we 
were  sympathetic.  He  acknowledged  openly  that  he  was 
weary  of  the  monotonous  life  in  Chiu-gompa;  every  day 
was  like  the  last,  and  the  monks  had  hard  work  to  procure 
a  scanty  subsistence,  and  must  always  be  prepared  for  the 
attacks  of  robliers.  It  must  be  pleasanter  to  live  as  we  did, 
and  roam  about  freely  among  the  mountains.  He  asked 
me  if  he  might  come  with  us,  and  I  replied  that  I  would 
willingly  take  him  to  Ladak.  Then  his  face  brightened,  but 
he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  think  over  the  matter  until  I 
returned  from  my  next  trip  on  the  lake. 

It  rained  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  everything  was 
wet  —  even  the  things  in  my  wind-beaten  and  torn  tent, 
where  little  puddles  had  been  formed.  But  Tsering  came 
with  the  linen,  so  I  was  not  so  badly  off.  We  had  a 
long  voyage  before  us,  to  camp  No.  212,  the  first  place 
we  had  encamped   at  on  the  holy  lake.    The  programme 

lac  txcursiuii  inhu  liiLiuucu  vs=ii.=  i---  tii\.  titi-.t.  vnt-.i 
monasteries,   the  gauging  of  the   volumes  of  water  in   the 


i  1 


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i6o 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


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streams  from  the  north,  and  the  drawing  of  a  map  of  the 
northern  shore.  We  therefore  took  provisions  for  four 
days,  whiih  Rahsang  and  A(hd  were  to  transjjort  ahjng 
the  bank  nn  hordes'  hacks.  We  were  to  meet  them  at 
the  entrance  tn  the  valley  Serolunj,',  at  Serolunj;  gonipa. 
This  la>t  voyai^e  wa-  to  c-oniplete  my  investigation  of 
the  hike,  Itut  precisely  because  it  was  the  last  it  was 
Icjoked  forward  to  witli  fear  by  my  men.  'I'hey  thought 
that  I  had  so  long  defied  the  gcxl  of  the  lake  that  now  my 
time  was  ccjme,  and  that  he  would  avenge  himself  and 
keep   me   for  ever. 

But  the  morning  was  beautiful,  and  when  at  half-past 
five  we  rowed  out  over  the  smooth  lake,  the  temperature 
was  48.0°.  The  eloud  cap  of  Gurla  e.xtended  down  to  the 
water,  and  nothing  could  Ik-  seen  of  the  country  tc  ...e 
south.  The  Punch  mcnintain  was  covered  with  snow  and 
had  a  wintry  appearance.  At  the  hrst  sounding-station 
(66  feet)  the  tenti  were  seen  as  white  s])ecks  hovering 
al)ove  the  lake.  Chiu  gompa  stands  prjudly  on  its  rocky 
point,  and  is  a  landmark  visible  from  all  parts  of  the  lake 
shore  except  from  the  west.  At  the  second  station  the 
sounding  was  more  than  1,^0  feet.  Shukkur  Ali  and 
Tundup  Sonam  row  like  galley-slaves,  for  they  hope  to 
finish  this  line,  and  then  the  work  will  l)e  at  an  end.  Some- 
times the  boat  j)asses  through  belts  of  fcjam  and  weed.  At 
the  fifth  station  (161  feet)  the  tents  can  still  Ix'  seen  with 
the  glass,  but  after  that  they  disajtpear.  Gossul's  memcjr- 
able  monastery  can  also  Ix,'  dimly  descrilx'd  on  its  rock. 

"\ow  we  have  traversed  a  third  of  the  way,"  I  said. 

"Thank  Gcxl!"  reijlied  Shukkur  Ali. '"I  hope  the 
weather   will    hold    up   to-day." 

A  large  fish  floated  on  the  water,  belly  up;  fish  washed 
ashore  are  used  by  the  people  as  medicine.  The  depths 
remain  the  same;  the  lake  bed  is  very  even.  But  at  the 
thirteenth  point  we  found  108  feet,  and  at  the  fourteenth 
180  feet,  which  indicated  a  ridge  in  the  lake  lx*d  or  a  cone 
of  detritus  from  the  foot  of  the  northern  mountains.  At 
about  an  hour's  sail  from  the  eastern  shore  we  saw  Rabsang 
and  Adui  coniirig  up,  unci  thev  v.aitcd  for  us  at  tne  rcnuez- 
vous.    They    proposed    we    should    pass    the    night    in    a 


;</i 


xLvm       OUR   LAST   DAYS   ON   TSO-MA\  AN(; 


i6i 


stone  cabin  at  the  right  sMe  of  iho  mouth  of  the  Pt-rolung 
valley,  Ijut  I  refused,  for  pilgrims  and  tramps  ire  wont  to 
harlxiur  there.  Six  monks  from  the  convent,  ol  1  friends 
of  ours,  paid  me  a  visit,  and  four  happy,  laughing  women, 
black  and  dirty,  came  rushing  like  a  whirlwind  do.vn  the 
slo]K'S  with  bask'  is  of  fuel  on  their  backs.  Pup])y  had 
followed  Kabsang,  and  had  found  at  a  monastery  on  the  way 
a  little  elegant  cavalier  with  a  red  collar  and  lx-ll<.  With 
a  feeling  of  satisfaction  at  having  completed  this  iast  line 
of  soundings,  I  went  to  sleep  on  the  sandy  shore  under  the 
light  of  the  everlasting  stars. 

Next  day  I  nxle  with  Rabsang  17  miles  to  le  north, 
in  order  to  measure  the  volumes  of  water  in  the  Pachen 
and  Pachung  valleys.  We  arranged  to  meet  the  other.-, 
on  the  northern  shore,  whither  they  were  to  row  with 
the  baggage.  Were  we  long  away  tiuy  were  to  light 
a  Ixacon  fire  on  a  hill  for  our  guidan..-.  We  foll(«ved 
for  a  time  the  shore  with  its  banks  of  mud,  small  pro- 
jections, and  lagoons,  and  tlun  wc  nxJe  through  the 
Semo-tsangpo  from  the  Tokchen  val!  y,  and  j)assed  on  the 
left  hand  two  small  l.'kes  in  the  midst  of  rich  pasturage, 
where  a  numlx;r  of  kiangs  grazed,  glared  at  us,  pricked  up 
their  ears,  and  ran  away  in  a  slow  gallop;  then  we  crossed 
the  tasam,  or  the  great  trunk  road,  and  rode  up  the  sharply 
sculptured  Pachen  valley,  with  a  foaming  river  carrying 
69.9  cubic  feet  of  water.  Then  we  rode  westwards,  up 
and  down  hills,  and  enjoyed  a  new  view  of  the  holy  lake 
with  Gurla  Mandatta  in  the  background.  The  Pachung 
river  carried  83.3  cubic  feet  of  water.  When  our  work  was 
done  we  rode  south-westwards.  Wild  asses  were  on  the 
meadows;,  they  are  nearly  tame,  for  no  one  puts  an  end  to 
life  on  the  shores  of  the  holy  lake.  Thirty  mares  stood 
on  a  mound  guarded  by  a  stallion;  the  sun  was  sinking, 
and  perhaps  this  is  how  these  animals  prepare  for  the 
dangers  of  the  night.  Now  and  again  a  mare  left  the 
group  and  made  a  circuit  about  her  sisters,  but  the  stal- 
lion ran  after  her  immediately  and  forced  her  to  return 
to  the^  others.  This  game  was  frequently  repeated,  and  it 
seemed  lo  nie  that  the  marcs  were  making  sport  of  the 
stallion. 

VOL,  u  „ 


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I  •> 


it. 


162 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


\Vc  ride  over  swampy  mcaflows  and  small  sandhills; 
nothing  can  Ix?  seen  of  the  lake-;  we  should  like  to  hear 
its  waves  roaring  under  the  south-west  breeze,  but  new 
hills  always  crop  up  in  front  of  us.  At  last  wc  catch  sight 
of  the  smoke  of  the  camp  fire.  Adul  had  caught  a  kiang 
foal  four  months  old,  which  was  ill  and  kept  always  turning 
round.  The  mother  came  to  look  after  it  in  the  night, 
but  gave  it  up  for  lost,  and  it  died  soon  after. 

August  20  was  s[)ent  in  surveying  a  map  of  a  part  of 
the  northern  shore  which  is  very  slightly  curved,  and  in  a 
sounding  excursion  on  tlie  lake  out  to  a  depth  of  154  feet. 
While  the  surface  water  had  a  temperature  55.6°  every- 
where, with  an  air  temperature  aljout  constant,  the  tem- 
perature at  the  l^cjttom  sank  from  56.1''  to  46°  at  the  depth 
of  154  feet. 

\Ve  gradually  Ugan  to  suffer  want.  The  collops 
which  Adul  tried  to  pass  off  on  mc  on  the  morning  of 
the  2ist  were  decidedly  bad,  and  therefore  landccl  in 
Pup{)y's  stomach.  As  Kabsang  anu  I  rode  northwards  to 
Fundi  gompa,  the  temperature  was  56°  and  really  too  warm, 
so  that  a  shower  of  rain  was  not  unpleasant.  Fundi  lies 
on  a  rocky  ledge  in  a  -avine;  its  ablx)t  is  eighty  years 
old,  and  has  eight  monks  under  him.  One  was  a  China- 
man from  Fekin,  who  had  lived  forty  years  in  the  convent 
and  had  Ix-come  a  thorough  Tibetan,  though  he  had  not 
forgotten  his  mother  tongue.  From  there,  too,  there  is  a 
splendid  view  over  the  lake.  As  we  were  about  to  ride 
down  to  camp  No.  222  on  the  shore,  a  messenger 
came  from  Rolx.Tt  with  the  news  that  the  authorities  in 
Farka  had  refused  to  provide  us  with  transport  animals 
or  assist  us  in  any  way,  for  they  had  never  heard  that 
we  were  permitte<l  to  sjx;nd  a  whole  month  on  the  lake. 
He  also  said  that  our  Ladakis  were  much  frightened 
by  all  kinds  of  stories  of  robbers  which  were  c  irrent  in 
the  neighbourhood,  so  that  every  one  was  anxious  for  my 
presence. 

The  camp  was  quite  close  to  the  monastery  Langbo- 
nan,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Gyuma-chu.  After  we  had 
measured  this  river  and  ascertained  that  it  disiliarged 
73.8  cubic  feet  of  water,  wc  had  tracked  up  all  the  waters 


i'\ 


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I' 

11 


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xLvm      OUR  LAST  DAV'S  ON  TSO-MAVANG 


163 


pouring  into  Manasarowar  on  the  surfr  ~e,  and  we  found 
that  the  whole  volume  was  1094.8  cubi  it  in  a  second,  or 
94,590,000   cubic    feet    in    twenty-four  rs,    which   would 

make  a  cube  measuring  nearly  456  .  each  way.  But 
how  much  water  flows  to  the  lake  by  uiul'-rground  passages 
whi.  .1  we  could  not  measure  ?  Probably  a  volume  con- 
siderably in  excess  of  the  surface  water;  for  Manasarowar 
lies  in  a  trough  between  huge  mountains  which  are  con- 
stantly feeding  the  subterranean  springs.  At  any  rate  the 
surplus  water,  so  far  as  it  is  not  lost  by  cvai)oration, 
filtrates  through  subterranean  passages  to  the  Langak-tso, 
which  lies  lower. 

On  the  22nd  wc  again  rowed  straight  out  from  the 
bank  into  the  lake  till  we  reached  a  place  where  the  depth 
was  135  feet,  and  then  sailed  back  with  a  favourable  wind 
to  the  starting-point.  It  was  the  last  time  that  I  sank 
my  lead  in  the  holy  water,  and  I  was  quite  convinced  that 
I  should  never  do  it  again,  for  I  had  now  138  soundings, 
evenly  distributed  over  the  lake  and  affording  ample 
material  for  the  construction  of  an  isobathic  map.  It  was 
comical  to  hear  Shukkur  Ali  when  I  remarked  to  him  that 
this  was  our  last  voyage  on  Tso-mavang.  He  held  his 
hands  before  his  face  as  if  he  were  about  to  pray,  and  said 
solemnly  that  in  sjute  of  all  dangers  "we  had  had  the  good 
fortune  to  bring  our  work  to  a  successful  conclusion  by  the 
favour  of  Allah,  the  favour  of  the  Sahib,  the  favour  of  the 
papa  and  the  mamma  of  the  Sahib,  and  the  favour  of  all  his 
relations."  I  ventured  to  remark  that  he  had  forgotten 
the  favour  of  the  lake-god,  but  he  dismissed  the  suggestion 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  said  he  had  no  more  faith  in 
the  god. 

Afterwards  I  roc]e  with  Rabsang  up  to  the  monastery 
Langbo-nan,  while  the  others  went  on  to  Chiu-gompa.  I 
shall  omit  here  a  description  of  this  convent,  where  the 
most  remarkable  sight  wls  the  twelve-year-old  abbot, 
Tsering,  an  intelligent,  frank,  and  lively  boy,  with  sharp 
bright  eyes,  white  teeth,  a  fresh  healthy  complexion,  and 
an  attractive  appearance  (Illustration  262).  He  sat  on  a 
divan  before  a  kcquered  table  in  his  library,  called  tsemchiing, 
and  showed  a  great  interest  in  all  my  plans,  glanced  into  my 


!?|i' 


'41 


164 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


n 


sketch -Ixjok,  tried  my  field-f^lass,  and  asked  me  for  a  couple  of 
pencils.  During  the  hour  I  spent  in  his  cell  we  k-camc 
^'()(m1  friends,  and  when  at  len-^th  I  hade  him  farewell  we 
little  thouf^ht  that  we  should  meet  again  only  a  year  later. 
.\s  we  made  the  round  of  the  monastery  we  came  in 
the  gallery  of  the  court  upon  a  poor  fellow  who  lay  ill  and 
seemed  t(  bo  suffermg.  I  asked  him  how  he  was,  and  he 
told  me  that  on  .August  18.  the  day  when  Rabsang  and 
Adul  came  to  meet  us,  he  \wis  taking  eleven  mules  and 
two  horses  laden  witli  tsamha  and  barley  to  Parka,  the 
Clova  of  which  was  the  owner  cjf  the  caravan.  Where  the 
Pachung  river  entirs  the  eastern  lagoon  he  was  attacked 
at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  by  twelve  robUrs,  who 
rushed  <lown  from  the  direction  of  the  Pachung  valley. 
They  were  all  mounted,  and  armed  with  guns,  swords,  and 
s])eaVs,  iiad  tw(j  spare  hor.-es  for  provisions,  and  wore  masks 
on  their  faces.  'I'liey  dismounted  in  a  moment,  threw  a 
mantle  over  his  head',  tied  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
cleared  him  out,  taking  among  other  things  400  ruj)ees, 
and  then  they  rode  off  again  to  tlie  Pachung  valley,  which 
Rab>ang  and  I  had  hurriedly  visited  the  next  day.  He 
then  summoned  help  by  shouting,  and  in  a  very  pitiable 
condition  found  refuge  in  Langlxj-nan.  He  showed  us 
some  deep  stabs  in  his  legs,  his  skin  coat,  and  the  saddle, 
which  had  suffered  sevi  n  ly  when  he  made  a  desperate 
attempt  to  defend  himself.'  This  was  the  incident  which 
had  so  alarmed  our  Ladakis. 

The  way  from  here  to  Chiu-gomi)a  is  charming.  Per- 
pendicular, sometimes  overhanging  rocks  of  green  and  red 
schist  fall  to  the  shore,  which  here  has  a  shingly  beach  only 
20  yards  broad.  Two  gigantic  Ijoulders  stand  like  monu- 
ments on  the  shore,  and  on  the  rocky  walls  we  see  black 
caves  and  hermits'  dva-llings,  and  we  often  pass  the  usual 
three  .stones  on  which  tea-kettles  of  jnlgrims  have  boiled. 
Farther  to  the  west  the  projections  form  a  series  of  recesses 
in  lighter  tones;  at  one  of  these  clitTs  a  new  and  fascinating 
view  is  displayed.  A  water  mark  l>ing  5J  feet  alcove  the 
present  level  of  the  lake  is  very  easily  recogni/.ed.  On  the 
•  ickv  ])innacles  eagles  sit  motionless  as  statues,  watcliing 
for   prey. 


vSl 


x.vM.       OUR   LAST   DAYS   ON   TSO-MAVAXG 


1 65 


Chcrgip-gompa  is  built  on  a  terrace  in  the  broad  mouth  of  a 
valley.  It  is  a  small,  poor  monastery,  but  it  has  its  lliakani^ 
anfl  its  vestibule  with  a  large  bronze  bell,  in  which  the  six 
holy  characters  are  ca?t.  When  the  bell  Is  rung  at  morn- 
ing and  evening  the  unfathomable  truth  is  l)orne  on  the 
waves  of  sound  over  the  lake,  which,  with  its  blue  surface 
and  its  background  of  the  snow  fields  of  (iurla  Mandatta, 
forms  a  charming  landscape  as  seen  from  the  court  of  the 
monastery.  But  its  sound  is  heard  by  no  <jne  but  Cheigip's 
.single  monk.  Poor  man,  what  must  be  his  feelings  in 
winter  evenings  when  storms  sweep  the  drifting  snow 
over  the  ice  of  Tso-mavang ! 

I  remained  with  him  fully  two  hours,  for  he  had  much 
to  tell.  He  had  travelled  far,  had  been  at  Seli[)uk  and  the 
Nganglaring  t.so,  and  ofTered  to  conduct  me  thence  in 
twenty  days  to  the  Dangra-yum-tso ;  he  had  no  suspicion 
that  I  was  roaming  about  in  the  forbidden  land  under  a 
political  ban.  But  he  revived  my  desire  to  visit  the  great 
unknown  country  to  the  north  of  the  holy  river.  I  was 
full  of  thoughts,  full  of  plans,  and  full  of  an  insatiable 
dcsidcrium  ii!cof;nili  which  never  left  me  in  peace,  when 
at  length  I  departed  from  the  eighth  and  last  monastery 
of  T.so-mavang  as  the  evening  .spread  its  dark  veil  over 
the  lake  I  had  con(|Uered. 

We  had  still  a  long  w;y  to  go  to  the  camp.  At  the 
last  mountain  .spur  stands  a  rlihorlcn,  from  which  our  fire 
was  visible.  Soon  we  sat  again  among  our  companions. 
LiUe  at  night  two  horsemen  hkIc  past  our  camp;  the 
watchman  called  out,  "Who's  there?"  but  they  made  no 
an.swer.  Then  Rab.s;ing  awoke  and  thoughtlessly  .sent  a 
bullet  after  the  unknown  men,  being  convinced  that  they 
were  robbers.  My  men  had  reached  .sucn  a  pitch  of 
nervousness  that  they  saw  robbers  everywhere. 

This  was  (;ur  la.st  night  on  the  shore  of  'he  T.so-rin- 
poche,  the  "holy  lake,"  and  I  listened  sadly  to  the  song  of 
the  surf  dying  away  as  the  wind  fell. 


H 


d"!VT^Wt», 


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"I  ! 


CHAPTER   XLIX 

ADVENTURES   ON    LANGAK-TSO 

I  HAVE  not  interrupted  the  description  of  my  life  on  the 
revered  hike  with   notices  of  our  poHtical  troubles.     SuHicc 
it    to    say    that    we    succeeded    in    staying    there    a    whole 
month.     Mounted    and    other    messengers    often    came    to 
make  complaints,  and  then  my  men  simply  replied:       Ihe 
Sahil)  is  out  on   the  lake,  catch  him  if  you  can;  he  is  a 
friend   of  the  lake  god,   and   can   .stay   as  long   as  he  hkes 
among  the  branches  of  the  holy  tree."    And  when  I  came 
back    again    they    had    gone    off.     In    consequence    of    the 
boat  trips  they  could  not  control  my  movements,  but  when 
we  encamped  by  Chiu-gompa  they  became  more  energetic 
During   my   ab.sence   came   messenger  after  messenger  with 
orders  that   I   must   at    once    betake   myself  to    Parka   and 
continue    mv   journey    thence    to    Ladak.     On     August     23 
I  sent  RobJrt  and   Rabs;ing  to  Parka  to  make  terms  with 
the    authorities,    but    they    would    not    under    any   circum- 
stances   allow    me    to    visit    Langak-tso,   my    next    stage. 
If   I  liked    to   stav  a   month  or  a  year  at  Chiu-gompa  it 
was  nothing  to  them,  for  the  monastery  was  not  in  their 
district,    but    the    western    lake    was   in    their    jurisdiction. 
They  advised  that   I    should  come   as   .soon  as  possible   to 
Parka  for  my  owti  siikc,  and  would  send  in  the  morning 
fifteen  yaks  to  carry  my  luggage. 

But  I  wished  to  see  Langak-tso  at  any  cost,  bo  when 
the  fifteen  yaks  arrived  next  morning,  I  quickly  made  up 
mv  mind  to  send  Tsering,  Rabsang,  anil  four  men  with 
the  bag'Mg  to  Parka,  while  Robert  and  the  other  six 
men    would    go    with    me    to    Langak-tso.    Our    own    six 

166 


i'^. 


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2t>^.       Tl  MPI  K    \l^-.ll^    IN    (Mil     i.'iMI'S. 


2''\.     Tuci  (nil  PKi  \   IN   ^iiii,\i>,K. 

Ski  Ic  111  >  \<\    Ihr  Aullr.r. 


V      ! 


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nl 


{ 


COAP.  XLIX 


ADVENTURES   OX   LAXGAK-TSO 


167 


horses  and  the  last  mule  from  Poonch  could  easily  carry 
the  boat  and  our  bit  of  lugg'KC-  The  yaks  were  laden 
and  my  men  dis;ippeared  behind  the  hills.  My  own  small 
caravan  had  orders  to  camp  on  the  shore  of  Langak-tso 
where  the  old  channel  enters.  I  went  with  Robert  and 
two  men  on  foot  and  executed  a  series  of  exact  levellings 
over  the  isthmus  separating  the  two  lakes.  At  the  same 
time  I  drew  a  map  of  the  course  of  the  channel.  The 
measuring  tape  was  nailed  fast  to  an  oar  which  Robert 
carried;  tiie  theodolite  I  carried  myself.  The  distance 
between  the  pole  and  the  instrument  amounted  to  55 
yards,  and  was  measured  with  tapes  by  our  two  assistants. 
The  pole  was  placed  on  an  iron  dish  that  it  might  not 
sink   into  the   soft  ground. 

The  lakes  were  visited  in  181 2  by  Moorcroft,  who 
found  no  connecting  channel.  In  October  1846  Henry 
Strachey  found  there  an  arm  of  the  lake  100  feet  broad 
and  3  feet  deep.  Landor  declared  that  any  connection 
was  inconceivable,  for,  according  to  him,  the  isthmus 
was  300  feet  high  at  its  lowest  part.  Ryder  found 
in  the  late  autumn  of  1904  no  water  running  out  of 
Manasarowar,  but  he  heard  from  the  natives  that  a 
little  water  passed  through  the  channel  during  the  rainy 
season.  Shcrring  also  saw  no  running  water,  but  he 
thought  it  probable  that  the  lake  overflowed  after  rainy 
summers.  As  for  me,  I  followed  the  bed  of  the  channel 
from  one  lake  to  the  other  and  found  that  in  the  year  1907 
no  water  flowed  from  the  eastern  into  the  western  lake, 
and  in  1908  the  condition  was  the  same,  though  both  my 
visits  occurred  in  the  rainy  season.  There  must  be  very 
heavy  falls  of  rain  lx?fore  Manasarov/ar  can  overflow,  for 
the  highest  point  of  the  channel  bed  lies  more  than  6^  feet 
alxjve  the  level  of  the  eastern  lake. 

The  circumstance  that  dilTercnt  travellers  in  different 
years  have  given  difi"crent  accounts  is,  however,  very 
easily  explained.  All  depends  on  the  precipitation:  if 
it  is  abundant,  the  surface  of  Manasarowar  rises;  if  it 
is  very  ubundant,  its  water  drains  off  to  the  Langak-tso 
(Rakast  tal).  If  the  summer  is  dry,  as  in  the  year  1907, 
the    Langak-tso    receives    no    water    through    the    channel, 


■  m 


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IRANSm  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


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l)Ut  (rrtainly  !)>•  sul)tiTr;incan  passaj^'cs.  On  the  whole, 
hotli  ihrM'  lakes  art-  falling'  like  the  other  lakes  of  Tihct, 
and  the  time  is  ajjproai  hint^  uiien  tlie  subterranean  outlet 
will  he  (  ul  oU  and  hoth  lakes  will  he  salt. 

As  we  dtliherately  measured  the  (hannel  and  came 
to  its  hi,i,'hest  point  from  wliii  h  its  bed  dips  towards 
the  west,  1  thnw  a  farewell  ulanee  at  Tso-mavanK,  and 
e\i)erii-nii'd  i  fi'elin.L;  of  bereavement  at  the  though  that 
I  must  now  leave  its  shores,  and  in  all  probability  for 
ever.  l''or  I  hail  known  this  t^'em  of  lakes  in  the  li^'ht 
of  the  mornini,'  red  and  in  the  purple  of  sunset,  in  storms, 
in  howlini^  hurricanes  when  the  waves  rose  mountain 
hi,t;h.  in  fresh  southerly  bree/.es  when  the  waves  .sparkled 
like  emeralds,  in  full  sunshine  when  the  lake  was  .smooth 
as  a  mirror,  in  the  .silver  beams  of  the  moon  when  the 
mountains  stood  out  like  while  .spectres  after  the  dull 
yellow  li,t,'ht  of  evenini,'  was  txtinj^'uished,  and  in  jjcaceful 
nights  when  the  stars  twinkled  as  clearly  on  the  smooth 
surface  of  thi'  lake  as  above  in  the  vault  of  heaven.  I 
had  pas>ed  a  memorable  month  of  my  life  on  this  lake,  and 
had  made  f'-iends  with  the  waves  and  become  intimately 
aciiuainted  with  its  depths.  To  this  day  I  can  hear  the 
melcKlious  splash  of  tin'  raj^inj,'  surf,  and  still  Tso-mavani^ 
linf^ers  in  my  memory  like  a  fairy  tale,  a  le<,'end,  a  sonj^. 

We  went  on  westwards  alonj.;  narrow  creeks  and  j)ools 
of  sta>^iant  water,  but  when  the  evenin.tjj  had  become  so 
dusky  that  I  could  no  Ioniser  read  the  fii^'urcs  on  the 
measuring,'  i)()le,  we  f,'ave  up  work,  marked  the  last  fi.xed 
point,  and  made  for  the  camp,  which  we  reached  in 
complete   <Iarkness. 

In  the  morning  the  work  was  continued.  We  had 
had  a  minimum  of  22.6°  in  the  nij^ht.  and  a  violent  south- 
west storm  rendered  it  dilTicult  to  read  the  instruments. 
The  hundred-and-fourth  point  was  fixed  at  len<fth  at  the 
edj^e  of  the  water  of  Langak  t-o.  I  have  no  s])ace  here 
to  analyze  the  results.  The  channel  runs  west-north-west, 
and  the  line  measured  is  10  2^t,  yards  long,  or  twice  as 
long  as  repri'senti'd  on  the  most  recent  maps.  The 
surface  of  I.angak  tso  lay  44  feet  below  that  of  T.so- 
mavang.    which     agrees   very    well    with     the    diCferencc    of 


XLIX 


ADVENTURKS   ()\    LANCAK-TSO 


i6g 


hoiKht  on  Kydrr's  ma]),  nanuly  50  fitt.  'riuro  is  no 
water  Ixyomf  tin-  ninc-ty  fourtli  fixi-d  jioint  in  the  Ix'd. 
Tlu-  Tilntans  rolatnl  a  li'^^'tnd  lonriTninL;  tlic  «)ri«,Mn  of 
tlif  channel.  Two  lart,'i'  li>lu's  in  Tm)  mavanj^  wiTi- 
deadly  enemies  and  eluoeil  each  other.  One  was  heaten, 
and  in  order  to  eseape  lie  darted  ri.!,'ht  throii^;h  the  isthmus, 
and  the  windin<;s  of  the  channel  bed  nIiow  the  ccjurse  of 
the  flyinj^  fish. 

The  morning  of  Auj^ust  26  was  dull.  dam]),  and  cold. 
Heavy  cIchkIs  tloaled  over  the  earth,  heralds  _  of  the 
monsoon  rains,  and  I-aiij^'ak  tso  looked  anything,'  l)Ut 
invitinj;  for  a  sail.  liut  we  had  the  whole  day  before 
us,  and  any  moment  horsemen  mij^dit  come  from  Parka, 
take  us  by  the  neck  and  lead  us  back,  whether  we  liked 
it  or  not,'  to  the  ])ath  of  duty.  Lan<,'ak  tvi  has  a  very 
irregular  outline.  Its  chief  basin  in  the  south  is  begirt 
by  rocks,  in  the  north  there  is  a  smaller  expansion,  and 
between  the  two  runs  a  contracted  channel.  .Ml  we 
could  venture  to  do  was  to  row  over  the  small  basin 
westwards  and  then  to  the  south-east,  to  a  place  on  the 
eastern  shore  whither  our  camp  could  be  moved.  It 
could  be  done  in  a  few  hours,  so  we  took  nothing  but 
the  mast  and  sail. 

Tundup  Sonam  and  Ishe  were  my  boatmen,  and  we 
set  out  at  half-i)ast  five  o'clock.  We  were  at  first  in  the 
lee  of  a  promontory,  but  when  we  had  i»a.->e(l  it  the  whole 
lake  came  down  upon  us  with  rolling,  foaming  billows, 
showers  of  sjiray,  and  threatening  surge.  The  waves 
were  crowded  together  in  the  narrows  to  leeward,  and 
a.ssumed  curious  irregular  forms.  Among  them  tossed 
mas.ses  of  water-weed;  the  water  was  bright  green  and 
as  clear  and  sweet  as  that  of  Tso-mavang.  We  are  a 
little  beyond  the  promontory;  would  it  not  be  better  to 
turn  back?  Xo;  never  turn  back,  never  give  in;  still 
forwards!  We  were  wet,  but  we  kept  our  e(iuilibrium 
and  parried  the  cunning  assaults  of  the  rolling  waves. 
"Row  hard  and  we  shall  .soon  get  into  the  shelter  of  the 
great  point  on  the  western  shore."  I  even  managed  to 
take  soundings,  and  found  that  the  greatest  depth  was 
54J    feet;     the    lake    bottom    was    almost    level.     We    had 


4 


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TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


li  t 


J  ! 


Vi'. 


fought  with  the  waves  for  four  hours  before  we  landed 
on  tlie  north  side  of  the  promontory,  where  we  were 
sheltered  from  the  wind. 

Here  we  draw  the  lx)at  to  hind  and  reconnoitre. 
The  ca\)c  runs  north-eastwards,  and  is  covered  with  drift- 
sand  which  is  in  constant  motion.  On  the  shore  phiin  to 
the  south-west  yellow  sands|)outs  move  aljout,  whirling  like 
corkscrews  in  the  direction  of  the  wind,  and  our  pro- 
montory receives  its  .share  of  this  load  of  sand.  On  the 
north  the  dune  is  very  steep;  from  time  to  time  fresh 
sand  falls  down  the  slope  and  slii)s  into  the  lake,  where 
the  waves  sweep  it  away.  Irom  the  sharp  ridge  of  the 
dune  the  driftsand  is  blown  like  a  dense  plume  to  the  lake, 
and  the  water  is  tinged  with  yellow  for  cjuite  200  yards 
in  the  direction  of  the  wind  by  myriads  of  grains  of  sand, 
which  fall  to  the  bottom  and  l)uild  up  a  foundation  under 
water  on  which  the  promontory  can  extend  out  into  the 
lake.  The  wind  has  Ixen  strong,  and  now  \vc  have  a 
storm.  Patience!  We  cannot  go  back.  The  driftsand 
now  floats  so  thickly  over  the  lake  that  the  eastern  and 
northern  shores  are  invisiltle;  we  might  Ix;  sitting  on  a 
dune  in  the  heart  of  the  Takla  makan  desert. 

We  slipped  down  to  the  sheltered  side  of  the  dune, 
but  here,  out  of  the  wind,  it  was  still  worse.  We  were 
envelop<(l  in  clouds  of  sand,  which  penetrated  everywhere, 
into  our  eyes,  lars,  and  noses,  and  irritated  the  skin  where 
it  came  into  contact  with  the  Ixxly.  The  moaning  howl  of 
the  storm  was  heard  above  and  aroui.l  us.  My  oarsmen 
slept  or  strolletl  alx)Ut,  but  their  footprints  were  at  once 
obliterated  by  the  wind.  I  played  with  the  sand  like  a 
child  —  let  it  roll  down  the  lee  -ide,  built  a  small  peninsula, 
which  was  immediately  destroyed  by  the  waves,  and  a 
harlwur  mole,  which  the  sea  beat  over  and  broke  up  —  and 
watched  how  new  layers  and  clumps  of  dead  seaweed 
appeared  on  the  sand  slope,  and  how  the  dry  sand  formed 
falls  and  cascades  as  it  rolled  down.  But  the  stoim  did 
noi  abate. 

We  lay  waiting  there  for  four  hours.  On  the  eastern 
shore  our  men  had  moved  the  camp  a  little  farther  south. 
We   saw    the    tents   quite    plainly.    Should    we   venture    to 


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2tili.       My    I'MkMlKl-H. 


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MICROCOPY    RESOIUT'ON    TEST   CHART 

ANSI  onfl  ISO  TEST  CHAI  I  No    2 


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-^,j\=/.  :.  :^.^?i^^^s^?^? 


XLIX 


ADVENTURES   OX   LAXGAK-TSO 


171 


creep  along  the  shore  southwards  so  as  to  reach  a  point 
opposite  the  camp?  Out  Ix^vond  the  promontory  the 
dark-green  V  kc  ran  uncomfortably  high,  but  we  were  a. 
match  for  'he  waves  —  the  men  had  only  to  put  their 
weight  on  to  the  oars.  So  we  crept  along  the  shore, 
where  we  got  some  shelter,  but  we  had  to  l^e  careful  that  we 
wer?  not  carried  out  into  the  heaw  seas.  After  rowing 
round  two  points  we  landed  on  the  lee-sidc  of  a  third, 
where  the  boat  was  drawn  ashore  again.  Heavy  seas 
with  thundering,  towering  waves  dashed  against  the 
southern  side  of  the  point,  so  that  we  could  go_  no 
farther,  for  no  pilot  would  encounter  such  billows  in  a 
canvas  boat.  I  sto(xl  on  the  top  of  the  promontory  and 
enjoyed  the  fine  spectacle.  Robert's  tent  shone  brightly 
in  the  setting  sun.  We  saw  the  men,  the  horses  grazing 
on  the  bank,  and  the  smoke  of  the  camp-fire  beaten  down 
by  the  storm.  The  crossing  would  barely  take  an  hour, 
but  between  us  and  them  yawned  the  dark-green  abyss  of 
tyrannical,  all-conquering  waves. 

The  sun  sets  and  we  still  sit  and  wait,  confused  by  the 
rush  of  the  spirits  of  the  air  and  water.  This  time  they 
have  played  us  a  pretty  trick,  and  we  have  been  caught. 
To  the  north  rises  Kang-rinpoche,  lofty  and  bright  as  a 
royal  crown.  Its  summit  is  like  a  chhortcn  on  the  grave 
of  a  Grand  Lama.  Snow  and  ice  with  vertical  and  slightly 
inclined  fissures  and  ledges  form  a  network  like  the  white 
web  of  a  gigantic  spider  on  the  black  cliffs. 

And  the  day,  a  long  day  of  waiting,  nearcd  its  inevi- 
table close.  Shadows  lengthened  out  over  the  foaming 
waves,  the  sun  set,  and  the  Fundi  mountain,  our  old  friend 
of  Tso-mavang,  glowed  like  fire  in  the  sunset.  Clouds  of 
a  deep  blood -red  colour,  with  edges  of  orange,  and  tinted 
above  with  reddest  gold,  hovered  over  its  summit.  It  was 
as  though  the  earth  had  opened  and  volcanic  forces  had 
burst  forth.  The  hours  passed  by,  the  glow  died  out,  the 
outlines  of  Fundi  Ix-came  indistinct  and  were  at  length 
swallovvcd  up  in  the  darkness.  We  were  in  the  dark 
while  the  camp-fire  blazed  on  the  eastern  shore.  Our 
hopes  were  now  centred  on  the  night  and  the  moon. 
The    storm    had    raged    thrice    tv>cnty-fuur    hours,    and    it 


"/'  ''I 
•'■''I 

-   ''1 


! 


r-'iki:      ■  :  StJ'i^^ii 


*^ai!.3sSME»ie«:-'«»i-.a«Ka  mS'^-^' " 


f  ' 


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[I  l! 


172 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


must  end  some  timi  ;  but  it  was  just  as  strong.  And  as 
it  was  useless  to  wait,  and  I  could  not  appease  my  gnawing 
hunger  with  a  piece  oi  bread  and  a  cup  of  tea,  I  wrapped 
myself  in  the  sail,  burrowed  into  the  sand,  and  fell  into  a 
sound   sleep. 

The  rain  pelting  down  on  the  sail  woke  me  twice,  and 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  cold  thoroughly 
roused  me.  A  dreary,  grey,  rainy  outlook.  But  Ishe 
proposed  that  we  should  try  to  get  over,  ior  the  storm  had 
slightly  al)ated  in  conse<iuence  of  the  rain.  We  first  made 
sure  that  the  tackle  was  in  good  order,  and  then  stepped 
into  the  boat  ami  rowed  out  along  the  sheltered  side  of 
the  promontory.  Hut  scarcely  had  the  nose  of  the  boat 
])assed  bevond  the  ])oint  when  it  received  a  shock  that 
made  all  its  joints  crack.  "Row,  row  as  hard  as  you  can," 
I  yelled  through  the  howling  storm;  "we  shall  get  over 
Ix'f'ore  the  boat  is  full.  It  is  better  to  Ix.'  wet  th'in  suck 
our  thumbs  for  twenty-four  hours  more."  To  the  south, 
52°  K.,  the  tent  canvas  shone  white  in  the  morning  grey. 
\\'e  straved  far  out  of  our  course,  but  cut  the  waves 
cleanly,  and  steered  towards  the  surf.  We  just  managed 
to  get  o\er.  We  were  received  on  the  other  side  by 
our  men,  v.ho  helped  us  to  draw  the  boat  ashore  and 
had    fire  and   breakfast   ready   for  us. 

Namgval  had  returned  from  Parka  and  brought  news 
that  the  Gova  threatened  to  drive  away  my  men  in  order 
to  force  me  to  leave  Langak-tso.  BlutT,  however,  has  no 
effect  on  me.  .\  more  serious  matter  was  that  Puppy  had 
not  been  seen  for  forty-eight  hours,  anrl  that  Shukkur  AH, 
who  had  gone  the  morning  before  to  Chiu-gompa  in  search 
of  her,  had  not  been  heard  of  since.  Pupj)y  at  length 
found  her  way  into  camp  herself,  and  then  it  was  Shukkur 
Ali  who  was  missing. 

(^n  the  2Sth  the  storm  continued.  We  afterwards 
heard  from  Tibetans  that  stormy  weather  frequently  pre- 
vails on  Langak  tso,  anfi  the  lake  is  agitated,  when  Tso- 
mavang  is  smooth  anrl  calm.  Tundup  Sonam  concluded 
that  Tso-mavang  was  a  pet  of  the  gods,  while  demons  and 
devils  ruled  over  I.angak-tso.  We  had  heard  a  tale  in 
Gossul  gompa    that    the    preceding    winter    five    Tibetans, 


XLIX 


ADVENTURES   OX   LAXGAK-TSO 


173 


armed  with  swords  and  gun-,  had  crossed  the  ice  to  reach 
Parka  by  a  shorter  way,  Init  in  the  middle  of  the  lake  the 
ice  had  given  wa\ ,  and  all  five  were  dragged  down  by  the 
weight  of  their  weapons  to  the  bottom. 

I  wishe<l  for  fuie  weather  that  I  might  Ix-  able  to  cross 
over  the  lake  t(;  the  islands.  As,  however,  we  were 
obliged  to  give  up  all  thoughts  of  a  voyage,  I  determined 
to  pass  round  the  lake  and  at  any  rate  draw  an  outline 
map  of  it.  We  commenced,  then,  with  the  eastern  shore, 
which  makes  a  regular  curve  towards  the  east.  The 
white  mule  from  P(jonch  carried  the  boat.  Some  Ovis 
Ammons  were  seen  on  the  r(x:ks,  which  Tundup  Sonam 
stalked  unsuccessfully.  Shukkur  Ali  turned  up  again  as 
cool  as  a  cucumber,  having  searched  in  vain  for  Puppv, 
vhich  was  snoring  in  my  tent  in  most  excellent  condition. 
August  29.  We  go  to  sleep  amidst  the  roaring  of  the 
waves  and  the  howling  of  the  storm,  and  awake  agam  to  the 
same  uproar.  It  is  always  in  our  ears  as  we  ride  along 
the  shore.  We  might  be 'at  the  foot  of  a  waterfall.  Now 
we  follow  the  south  shore  westwards.  Here  the  cliflFs  are 
almost  everywhere  precipitous,  and  the  rocks  are  porphyry, 
granite,  and  schist;  the  shore  strip  is  extremely  narrow 
and  steej),  and  is  divided  into  sharj)ly  marked  terraces.  It 
descends  right  down  to  great  depths',  and  shallow,  gradu- 
ally _  .sloping  places  arc  not  to  be  found.  A  human  skull 
lay  in  a  bay  bobljing  up  and  down  in  the  waves,  and  not 
far  of!  were  other  parts  of  a  skeleto  ,.  Was  it  one  of  the 
men  who  had  been  drowned  in  the  winter?  At  this  dis- 
covery my  men  conceived  a  still  greater  aversion  to  Lan- 
gak-tso,  which  even  took  human  life.  I  perceived  that 
they  were  wondering  what  further  foolhardiness  I  might 
indulge  in. 

A  sharp-pointed  peninsula  running  north-westwards 
delayed  us.  On  the  bay  Ixyond  a  caravan  was  camj)ing, 
and  we  were  glad  to  meet  Tilxtans  again  when  all  others 
had  withdrawn  from  us.  And  they  were  glad  to  meet  a 
European  who  had  been  at  the  Lu'ma-ring-tso,  their  home. 
But^  they  could  not  understand  whv  we  passed  round  all 
projections  and  went  right  round  all  the  bays,  instead  of 
following    the   direct    road    running   a    little    farther    to   the 


'  <l 


*fi 


15S58fflKai*iSST 


V\i 


li  i! 


[111 ' 


174 


TRANS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


•II. 


south.  One  of  them  held  out  his  hands  towards  me  with 
the  fingers  spread  out,  and  saifi  that  the  south  shore  of  the 
lake  had  as  many  indentations.  When  I  told  him  that  I 
wished  to  draw  a  map  of  the  lake,  he  said  that  it  was  of  no 
consequence  what  the  shore  was  like,  as  only  egg-gatherers 
came  there. 

When  we  had  passed  two  projecting  points  wc  en- 
camped at  the  extremity  of  the  cape  which  lies  in  a  line 
with  the  southernmost  island.  It  was  stormy,  but  here  we 
found  shelter  under  a  cliff  with  a  streamer  pole  on  the  top. 
Stone  walls,  rags,  and  eggshells  were  evidence  of  the  visits 
of  men.  On  the  east  and  west  of  the  cape  were  open  bays 
with  heavy  seas,  and  to  the  north,  19°  E.,  we  saw  the 
southern  point  of  the  island  —  a  dark  precipitous  rock, 
rising  like  a  huge  roll  of  bread  from  the  waves.  We  had 
already  heard  of  this  island,  Lache-to,  on  which  the  wild- 
geese  lay  their  eggs  in  May,  and  are  robbed  of  them  by 
men  from  Parka  who  come  over  the  ice.  I  could  not 
therefore  omit  to  visit  it.  The  island  lay  quite  near.  We 
would  return  immediately,  and  Adul  might  lx!gin  to  roast 
the  wild-goose  which  Tundup  had  shot  on  the  march.  We 
wanted  no  provisions,  but  Robert  advised  Ishe  to  take  a 
bag  of  tsamba  with  him,  lest  he  should  have  to  wait  too 
long  for  his  dinner. 

These  two  men  took  the  oars  when  we  put  ofT.  The 
shelter  of  the  cape  was  deceptive.  Two  minutes  from  the 
bank  I  tried  to  take  a  sounding,  but  the  line  made  a 
great  curve  before  it  reached  the  bottom,  for  the  storm 
drove  the  boat  northwards.  Then  we  fell  upon  another 
device:  the  boatmen  had  only  to  hold  their  oars  in  the 
air  and  let  the  wind  carry  the  boat  along.  But  a 
little  farther  out  we  could  not  sail  so  easily,  for  the  wave 
system  of  the  eastern  open  part  of  the  lake  came  into 
collision  with  that  from  the  west.  Here  the  waves  rose 
into  hillocks  and  pyramids,  and  had  to  be  negotiated 
with  the  oars.  We  rapidly  drew  near  to  the  island,  and  its 
rocks  became  higher  and  looked  threateningly  dark  and 
dangerous.  When  we  were  close  to  the  southern  point  I 
perceived  that  it  was  impossible  to  land  there.  The  bank 
of   rubbish  and   blocks   was   very   steep,   and   we   and   the 


'4 


•^  :*^"1:^& 


m 


m 


ill 


I 


[ 

f 

1 

i 

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'  1 

I   !i 


nil 


■iyUUi'^^f' 


XLIX 


ADVENTURES   OX   LAXGAK-TSO 


'75 


boat  would  have  been  flashed  in  pieces  in  the  foaming 
breakers.  The  situation  was  critical.  Rolx-rt  wished  to 
land  on  the  lee-side  of  the  northern  point,  hut  that  would 
have  Ix-en  risky,  for  the  storm  sweiJt  unchecked  along  the 
sides  of  the  island,  and  if  we  did  not  get  under  the  land  at 
the  right  moment  we  .should  be  driven  out  into  the  open 
lake  at  a  distance  of  two  days'  voyage  from  the  northern 
shore.  We  rocked  up  and  down  on  soft  green  crvstal.  I 
steered  cIo.se  to  the  eastern  bank,  where  the  waves  were 
ju.st  as  high.  Here  we  had  no  choice.  I  turned  the  bow 
towards  the  land,  and  the  men  rowed  for  all  they  were 
worth.  A  nasty  billow  threw  us  ashore.  Robert  jumped 
out,  slipped,  and  got  a  ducking.  Ishe  hurrie<l  up  to  help 
him.  Three  billows  broke  over  me  before  I  got  to  land. 
We  were  all  three  drenched,  but  we  were  glad  to  have 
firm  ground  under  our  feet,  and  to  have  reached  the  island 
siifely  in  spite  of  the  treacherous  storm  which  might  have 
driven  us  past  this  open  roadstead. 

Then  Robert  and  I  went  round  the  island  while  Ishe 
collected  fuel.  Though  we  could  only  walk  slowly  over 
the  detritus,  we  took  but  twenty-five  minutes  to  go  round 
the  island  and  ascertain  its  form  by  compass  bearings.  It 
is  longish,  runs  from  north  to  south,  and  consists  of  a 
single  rock  falling  on  all  sides  steeply  to  the  water. 
During  our  walk  the  wind  dried  us.  Then  I  drew  a 
panorama  of  Gurla  Mandatta,  and  after  that  the  spot 
of  earth  to  which  fate  had  led  us  prisoners  was  subjected 
to  a  closer  investigation.  At  the  north-ea.stern  foot  of 
the  elevation  is  a  rather  flat  pebbly  plateau.  Here  the 
wild-geese  breed  in  spring,  and  here  lay  still  several 
thousand  eggs,  in  twos,  threes,  or  fours,  in  a  nest  of 
stones  and  sand. 

That  was  a  discovery.  Ishe  had  a  bag  of  tsaniba,  but 
that  was  all.  There  was  every  probability  that  we  should 
have  to  stay  the  night  here,  and  now  we  had  a  quite 
unexpected  store  of  provisions  to  last  for  months.  And 
some  time  this  persistent  wind  must  cease.  We  played  at 
Robinson  Cru.soe,  and  found  our  situation  very  advanta- 
geou.s.  Rut  the  egg-collecting  was  the  most  interesting.  The 
eggs  were  pretty  and  appetizing  as  they  lay  half  embedded 


1 


■^■^v  =•  •.   \^i■-''^-fi^,^■£:^r^.^i'^},'f•■'£T: 


■•hyUhtfiid^jK' 


mmmmL 


11/ 


>   >l 


.11 


i 

■ 


h!!  ' 


176 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


CH<P. 


in  tlu-  sand,  and  I  pictured  to  mysdf  the  happy  racklmK 
tliat  mii4  -<)  on  in  tlie  -i^rin^;  when  the  «oo>e  mothers  sit 
with  expeetant  hearts  on  tlie  hard  ne>ts,  and  the  sun 
n.HKls  (lurla    Manchilla   with  a   sea  of  hj^ht. 

We    broke    two.     Thev    were    rotten.     We    trie,     others 
which    lav    in    the    shade    and    deeper    in    the    s;md.      Ihey 
LMve   out' a    horrible   steneh    when    the    shell    broke    with    a 
rrick   on    a    stone.     But   of   alx.ut    200   e^'^s   we   broke,   we 
found  ei-ht  whieh  were  edible,  an.l  we  di<l  not  w'ant  more. 
We  heli,ed    I,^he  to  colleet   <lry   plants  lyini,'  on    the    sl(.{)C-s 
and    at    sunset    we   had    a    hu-e    heap   whieh    we    had    piled 
within    a    small    rinj^    fence.     In    the    muldle    the    fire    was 
li-rjiied,  and  we  sat  leanin-  a^'ainst  the  wall  whieh  shelterc. 
us  from  the  wind.      We   were  warm  and  comfortable.  an( 
„ur    siUisfaction    reached    its    height    when    Ishe  s    store    of 
tuimhu    was   divided    into    three    eciual    portions,    and    was 
eaten   out  of  a   w.xxlen   bowl   with  the   hand   in  place  of  a 
snoon.     The    -reatest    inconvenience    was    that    we    had    no 
other   ves.sel    but    Ish-'s   small    wocnlen    bowl,   and   therefore 
whenever  one  of  us  wanted  a  drink  he  had  to  tramp  down 

^"  Tlie  Morn,   still  howled  over  the  rock  an<l   through  the 
holes   an<l    cr    mies   of    the   wall.     Then    the    thouj^ht    sho 
throu.'h   mv   iwind;    "Is   the   boat   moored^  securely?     If   it 


shouk 


carried   away!    Then   we   are   lost.     Ah,    but   it 


shoUUl  oe  eariieu  a\>tij  .  ^wv..  -^  — 
may  be  cast  a.shore  on  the  northern  bank,  and  our  men 
mav  fetch  it  and  come  across  to  the  island  No,  it  ^ylll 
be  'tilled  with  water,  and  be  sunk  by  the  weight  of  the  zinc 
plates  of  the  centre-boards.  But  then  we  can  mount  in  the 
morning  to  the  southern  ix,int  and  make  our  people  under- 
stand bv  sit,'ns  that  we  want  provisions.  We  have  dritteu 
to  the  island  in  eighteen  minutes.  They  can  make  a  rat 
^vith  the  tent  poles  and  stays,  loa<l  it  with  i.rovisions,  and 
let  it  drift  with  the  wind  to  the  island.     And  we  mav   find 

"'"such' wer?"ti;e  thoughts  that  Robert  and  I  exchanged 
while  Ishe  was  feeling  about  in  total  darkness  at  the  land- 
in.'-i>lace.     "What    if    we    have    to    stay    here    til    the    lake 

in.,  jiuii-v  _  ^     „-.j"'     T     c'i'l        1^"t     nt     this 

fre.'/es    over.    li)Ur    nu.ntns    ner.Le.       i    ^  •■!•••     •---    --    • 
mo,mi,t  UT  heard  Ishc's  skl>s  in  Ihc  san.l,  an,l  he  calmed 


i 


^I's 


xux 


AI)\E\TURi:s   0\    LA.\G.\K-TS() 


'77 


us  with  the  assurance  that  lx)th  tin-  lx)at  and  the  oar^  wore 
safe. 

Then  we  talked  topether  aj,Min  and  kept  up  the  fire. 
The  storm  had  aljated,  l)Ut  sudden  ^usts  earne  down  from 
all  c|uart(rs.  \\\-  inspirted  the  water.  an<l  f<iund  that  we 
could  make  for  t'r.e  mainland  without  daiif,'er.  ihit  first  we 
t(K)k  all  the  remamin}^  fuel  and  piled  it  up  into  a  hlazinj^ 
Ijonfire,  which  shone  like  a  huf,'e  Ixacon  ovi  r  the  lake. 
If  any  Tibet. m  saw  it.  he  must  have  thou>,'ht  that  an  en- 
chanted lire  was  hurninj^  on   the  desolate  island. 

The  m<M)n  was  hif^h  when  we  put  otT  and  the  lake  was 
still  rouj^h.  Hut  soon  the  Ijlack  cafK'  where  our  camp 
Rtocxl  was  seen  on  the  southern  .shore  aj;ainst  the  dim 
background  of  mountains.  In  the  middle  of  the  sound 
the  depth  was  113  feet.  We  shouted  with  all  our  might, 
and  were  .s(K)n  answered  by  a  fire  on  the  point,  to  which 
our  jK'ople  had  come  down.  And  the  roasted  wild-goose, 
which  had  waited  so  long  for  us,  and  a  cup  of  hot  tea 
tasted  delicious  in  the  early  hours  of  morn.  And  still 
more  delightful  was  it  to  cree])  into  lx.'d  after  our  short 
visit  to  the  goose  island,  which  raised  its  dark,  mysterious, 
dolphindike  ridge  in  the  m(K)nlight.  Never  again  wuuld 
my  foot  tread  its  [>caceful  strand. 


l.\- 


4 


i 


VOL.  II 


\v 


h* 


lb      M 


tf 


CIIAI'IKR   L 


THE    SOVRCr-:    OF    THF.    Sl'TLFJ 


A 


\Vf  had  scarcely  drrssrd  in  the  mornirif^  iK'forc  the  storm 
ra^ed  aj^ain.  (lalsan  and  a  ^ova  from  Parka  overtfM)k  us 
here.  'I'lie  fnrnur  hruuj^'ht  imivision-,,  tlie  hitter  had  strict 
onh'rs  from  his  cliii-f,  Parka  Tasim,  to  tell  me  that  if  I 
did  not  at  once  betake  myself  to  Parka,  he  would  send  off 
all  my  1)ag,L,'a,t,'e  to  I.an^ak  tso,  and  forte  me  to  move  on 
to  Puran^.  Hut  the  gova  himself  was  a  jovial  old  fellow, 
and  he  received  my  answer  that  if  Parka  Tasjim  ventured 
to  meddle  with  my  lx)xes,  he  should  Ijc  immediately 
deposed.  If  he  kept  (juiet  a  couple  of  days,  I  would 
come  to  Parka,  and  the  rather  that  I  found  it  impo.ssiblc  to 
navif^jate  the  lake  at  this  season  of  the  year. 

Then  we  marched  on  westwards,  in  and  out  of  the  bays 
and  round  all  the  projections  jinnluced  by  a  mf)untain 
elevation  n -th  of  (iurla,  which  prolonj^s  its  ramifications 
to  the  lake.  The  constantly  changinj^  views,  as  we  wind 
in  and  out  and  wander  between  land  and  water,  are 
indescribably  beautiful  and  charminj^.  The  two  large 
islands  lying  far  out  in  the  lake  we  see  wherever  we  may 
be.  One  is  named  Dopserma ;  other  water-birds  breed 
there,  but  no  geese.  In  winter  yaks  and  sheep  arc  driven 
over  the  ice  to  the  i.sl.md,  where  there  is  gocxi  jxisturage. 
Wlicn  cattle  disease  rages  in  the  country  the  animals  on 
Dopserma  do  not  sutler. 

We  ])assed  round  the  sharp-pointed  westernmost  bay 
in  a  furious  storm  and  blinding  clouds  of  .sand,  and  en- 
camped on  tlie  shore  :  .^ain.  i  he  same  agreeable  weather 
continued    also  on    the    last  day  of  August  as  we  travelled 

178 


»'i1 


cnvp  ..       THI-:  soiKCK  OF  riiK  srri.Kj 


'70 


north  c.istward^  atvl  siw  the  Lan^'ak  tvi  iti  .i  n(  \v  and 
iKauliful  a^|Hit.  'Ilir  air  was  now  cUar.  Ri.nt;  rinixKlu- 
and  (lurla  Mandatta  wrrc  undoiidi-d,  anil  sIckkI  as  >rn 
tini'ls  alK)Vc'  tin-  lakrs.  \\c  |ia>Mi|  tlir  imint  wlitrc  riindiip 
Sonam.  Islic,  and  I  had  waited  m)  loni^',  and  liy  thi'  >.ind- 
duno  where  we  had  lain   four  hours. 

At  the  norlhwestiTn  hay  we  cross  the  oM  hoi  cjf  the 
Sutk'j,  consistinj^  of  treacherous  cjuakin^'  l;o^,'  or  dry  hard 
clay;  it  is  hroad.  lias  no  terraces,  and  has  been  much 
(le^,'rade(l  and  smoothed  down  hy  deflation  and  drift^and 
in  later  times.  Two  springs  rise  up  in  the  middk-,  and 
flow  in  the  direction  of  the  lake.  Westwards  tiie  U'd 
seems  (juite  level,  hut  ai  tually  it  rises  slowly  and  ivenly 
to  a  flat  culmination,  on  the  other  side  of  wiiii  h  it  dips 
down  towards  the  Indus. 

\ow  it  had  Ix'comc  dark,  and  we  nxle  hour  after  hour 
amonj^  low  hills  and  dunes  and  over  meadows  and  water 
channels.  I  thout^ht  we  had  lost  our  way,  when  the  hells 
of  grazing  cattle  were  heard,  a  fire  appeared,  and  Kabs»ing 
came  to  meet  us  with  a  lantern  in  order  to  lead  us  to  the 
villa<,a'  Parka,  where  my  tent  was  set  up  in  a  courtyard. 

During  the  much  needed  day  of  rest  we  allowed  our- 
selves in  Parka,  I  negotiated  now  and  then  with  the  govas 
of  the  neighlxmrhood.  They  asked  me  to  set  ot'f  definitely 
for  the  west  ne.\t  day,  and  I  promised  to  do  .so,  hut  on 
the  condition  that  I  might  stay  three  days  in  Khaleh,  half 
a  day's  j(jurney  to  the  west.  They  consented  without 
inf|uiring  into  my  further  intentions.  I  wi.shed,  Ix;  it 
known,  to  pa.ss  round  the  holy  mountain  hy  the  pilgrim 
road,  hut  saw  that  the  authorities  would  never  grant  their 
permission.     It  could  be  done  only  by  .stratagem. 

Here  I  received  a  second  very  kind  letter  from  Mr. 
Ca.ssels,  who  hap|K'ned  to  Ix?  in  Oyanima  on  olficial 
bu.siness.  Unfortunately  the  force  of  circumstances  pre- 
vented us  meeting.  He  gave  me  a  pleasant  surpri.se  \^'ith 
three  packets  of  tea,  which  were  the  more  welcome  as  I 
had  latterly  had  to  p"t  up  with  brick  tea. 

Here  also  the  truth  of  the  reiM)rt  that  had  .so  long 
followed  us,  that  six  Chinese  and  Tilx.'tc.n  olTicials  from 
Lhasa  had  been  sent  to  bring  me  to  reason,  was  at  length 


•Wi 


II 


i8o 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


r      i' 


f 


ii    i 


iikkIc  clear.  Tlu'  report  was  certainly  true,  hut  when  the 
gentlemen  on  reai  hin.t,'  Sakad/.onj^  iii'anl  that  I  nad 
marcheil  on  westwards  some  time  hefore,  they  simply 
turned  hack  ai^ain. 

I  oljtained  all  kinds  of  information  alx)Ut  the  tw;)  lakes 
and  their  jjeriodical  outlets,  from  Tihetans  who  had  long 
lived  in  the  country.  Four  years  before  some  water  had 
llowtd  from  Tso-mavang  to  Langak-tso,  which  confirms 
Ryder's  statement.  Twelve  years  ago  the  outllow  had 
been  so  abundant  that  the  channel  coukl  not  be  passed 
excejjt  by  the  bridge.  The  channel  is  sometimes  called 
Ngangga,'  sometimes  danga.  The  water  uf  Langak-tso 
is'^said  to  drain  off  umlerground,  and  to  ai)pear  again  at  a 
jtlace  in  the  (jld  bed  called  Langchen-kamba,  and  this 
water  is  said  to  be  ll:e  true  source  of  the  Sutlej,^  and  to 
find  its  wav  to  the  large  .streams  wliich  form  this  river, 
called  in  Tibetan  Langchen  kamba.  Twelve  years  and 
forty-cigiit  vears  ago  tlie  sjjring  in  the  old  bed  is  said 
to  "have  emitted  much  more  water  thaa  now.  Sherring 
collected    similar  data    in    1905. 

Langak-tso  is  said  to  have  been  so  poisonous  in  former 
times  tiiat  any  one  who  drank  of  its  water  died,  but  since 
the  holy  Tish' broke  though  the  isthmus  and  passed  into 
the  lake,  the  water  has  been  sweet.  Langak-tso  freezes 
in  the  beginning  of  December,  half  a  month  sooner  than 
its  eastern  neighbour,  and  the  freezing  jjroceeds  .slowly 
and  in  patches,  whereas  T.so-mavang  freezes  over  in  an 
hour.  Langak-tso  also  breaks  up  half  a  month  before 
Tso-mavang.  Hoth  have  ice  3  feet  thick.  In  winter 
the  surface  of  Tso-niavang  falls  20  inches  beneath  the  ice, 
which  consequently  is  cracked  and  fissured,  and  dips 
from  the  shore;  but  Langak-t.so  .sinks  only  one  or  two 
thirds  of  an  inch.  This  shows  that  it  receives  water 
con.stantly  from  the  eastern  lake,  but  only  parts  with  a 
trilling  (|uantilv  in  winter. 

With  regard  to  the  goose  island.  I  was  told  that  three 
men  are  commissioned  by  the  Devasharg  to  settle  on 
the  island  as  .soon  as  the  wild-geese  arrive,  to  protect 
liiem  from  wohes  aiui  fc»xos.  They  receive  o  rupees, 
a   sheep,   and   a  lump  of  butter  as  wage:.      At   this  time. 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  SUTLEJ 


i8i 


in  May,  the  ice  is  still  2  feet  thick,  but  the  c-f^j^-^atherers 
must  take  care  that  tliey  are  not  cut  otT  from  the  mainland 
by  a  storm.  Some  years  a<:;o  it  hajJiJened  that  two  watch- 
men were  isolated  on  the  island  in  this  way.  They  lived 
there  eight  months,  subsisting  on  eggs  and  green  focxi, 
and  returned  over  the  ice  ne.xt  winter  as  soon  as  the  lake 
was  fro7xn  over.  But  one  of  the.ii  was  .so  enfeebled  that 
he  died  on  reaching  Parka. 

After  a  lively  feast  held  by  the  Ladakis  in  the  evening, 
we  rule  on  September  2  north-westwards,  accompanied  })y 
an  old  grey-headed  gova,  who  had  become  a  particular 
■friend  (jf  mine.  The  weather  was  fine,  but  we  now  felt 
biting  cold  in  the  morning,  much  as  at  home  on  the 
islets  olT  the  coast  when  tlic  yellow  leaves  have  fallen 
and  a  thin  sheet  of  ice  has  spread  over  the  inlets.  All 
Parka  was  on  foot  to  witness  our  departure.  With  us  set  out 
a  '■  "^h  lama  whom  1  had  known  in  Leh.  His  retinue 
looked  well  in  their  yellow  dresses  against  the  grey  and 
green  ground.  He  had  been  in  Shigatse,  and  had  lately 
made  the  circuit  of  the  holy  mountain.  During  the  march 
we  vaded  through  the  rivers,  Dam-chu,  Sung-chu,  La-chu, 
anil  Khaleb,  which  together  carried  about  350  cubic  feet  of 
water  per  .second  to  Langak-tso. 

The  nearer  we  came  to  the  holy  mountain,  the  less 
impo.sing  it  appeared ;  it  was  finest  from  Langak-tso.  In 
form  it  resembles  a  tetrahedron  set  on  a  prism.  From 
the  middle  of  its  white  top  a  belt  of  ice  falls  precipitously 
down,  and  below  it  stands  a  stalagmite  of  ice,  on  to  whit  h 
a  thick  stream  of  water  pours  from  above.  The  stream 
splits  up  into  glittering  drops  of  sj)ray  and  thin  sheets  of 
water  —  a  grand  spectacle,  which  one  could  watch  with 
pleasure  for  hours. 

Our  cam])  on  the  Khaleb  moor  had  the  advantage  of 
being  far  from  the  haunts  of  men  —  a  very  necessary  con- 
dition, for  here  I  contrived  to  make  three  excursions 
without  |)ermission.  The  second  of  these  took  a  whole 
day,  September  6,  and  its  aim  was  the  old  bed  of  the 
Sutlej.  Where  we  reached  it,  the  bed  seemed  to  contain 
siagiiani  Welter  both  to  the  east  and  woi,  and  the  grv<un  i 
was  quite    level.     At   the   place   which    seemed    highest,  we 


04 
b'1 


i\ 


'^rtr^.i^^^  '".^■r'-K/^  j^r  ii£  .' 


.5ri:7  ^  '£1^  --> 


ll  I 


ll 


1    I 


rii 


•I : 


182 


TRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


tested  it  with  the  boiling-point  thermometer  and  found  that 
it  stood  about  30  feet  above  the  lake.  Following  the  lx>d 
westwards  we  come  first  to  a  large  pool  of  sweet  water 
with  large  quantities  of  ducks  and  water-weeds,  then  to  a 
series  of  freshwater  swamps  connected  by  channels,  and 
at  length  to  a  brook,  which  flows  sl(iwly  south-westwards. 
The  brook  pours  into  a  large  freshwater  \)0()\  Xo.  2,  which 
has  no  vi.siblc  outlet.  Hut  when  we  j)roceed  farther  west 
to  the  point  where  the  bed  is  contracted  between  walls  of 
solid  rock,  we  come  upon  two  springs  forming  a  new  brook, 
which  flows  through  a  clearly  marked  valley  to  the  south- 
west. I  am  convinced  that  this  water  filtrates  underground 
from  Langak-tso.  A  year  later  I  followed  the  old  bed  a 
day's  march  farther  west,  and  found  at  Dolchu-gompa 
permanent  springs  of  abundant  water,  which  likewise  well 
up  on  tiie  bottom  of  tlie  bed.  From  here  and  all  along  its 
course  through  the  Himalayas  the  Tibetans  call  the  Sutlej 
Langchen-kamba,  the  Elephant  river;  the  hill  on  which 
the  convent  Dolchu-gompa  is  built  is  supposed  to  bear 
some  resemblance  to  an  elephant,  and  hence  the  name. 
The  spring  at  Dolchu  is  called  Langchen-kabab,  or  the 
mouth  out  of  which  the  Elephant  river  comes,  just  as 
the  Brahmaputra  source  is  the  Tamchok-kabab,  or  the 
mouth  out  of  which  the  Horse  river  comes  and  the  Indus 
source  is  the  Singi-kabab,  c)r  the  mouth  from  which  the 
T>ion  river  comes.  The  fourth  in  the  series  is  the  Mapchu- 
kamba,  the  Peacock  river  or  Karnali.  The  Tibetans  assert 
that  the  source  of  the  Sutlej  is  at  the  mona.stery  Dolchu, 
not  in  the  Himalayas  or  the  Trans-Himalaya,  from  which, 
however,  it  recei\es  very  voluminous  tributaries.  They 
are  also  convinced  that  the  source  water  of  the  Langchen- 
kamba  originates  from  Langak-tso.  And  I  would  draw 
particular  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  first  of  the  two 
lioly  springs  whicli  pour  their  water  into  the  Tage-tsangpo 
is  also  called  Langchen-kamba  (see  p.  105),  a  proof  that 
in  old  times  the  source  was  supposed  to  lie  to  the  east  of 
Tso-mavang. 

Xi)W  I  aflvise  any  one  who  takes  no  interest  in  the 
source  of  the  Sutlej  to  skip  the  following  quotation. 
During  my  stay  in  Kioto  in  December  1908,  Mr.  Ogawa, 


>'/t 


■tap^p^ 


X->yAti^J: 


11     ' 


•I 


''« 


«•!    I 


'  I 
'  "  1 

H 


I  • 


|.i 


ii  1 1.1 


,11 


i!^ 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  SUTLEJ 


183 


Professor  of  Geography  in  the  University  there,  showctl 
mc  a  collection  of  Chinese  books.  One  of  them,  Shui-tao- 
ti-kang,  or  The  Rlcmcnts  of  Hydrography,  is  a  ccjmpila- 
tion  of  the  author  Chi  Chao  Xan  in  the  26th  year  of  the 
Emperor  Kien  Lung,  that  is,  the  year  1762,  and  in  this 
work,  Book  22,  is  the  following  communication  concerning 
the  source  of  the  Sutlej,  which  Professor  Ogawa  was  kind 
enough  to  translate  for  mc  literally:' 

The  Kang-ka-kiang  comes  out  from  Kang-ti-ssu-shan,  on  the 
south-east  of  which  there  stan '  Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan 
(=  Langchen-kabab),  magnificent  \\  .  an  elephant.  The  relief  is 
gradually  accentuated  more  and  more  towards  the  south-western 
frontiers,  anil  culminates  at  Kang-ti-?su-shan  (=  Kailas).  The 
mountain  has  a  circumference  of  more  than  140  li.  On  all  sides 
the  mountain  forms  precipitous  walls  more  than  icxx5  feet  high 
above  the  surrounding  mountains,  and  accumulated  snow  seems  as 
if  hung  on  clifTs.  Hundreds  of  springs  pour  down  from  the  top, 
but  flow  under  the  ground  on  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  It  is 
situated  in  the  e.\treme  west  of  the  Tsang  region,  310  ii  north- 
east of  Ta-ko-la-cheng  in  A-li,  more  than  5590  li  south-west  of 
Si-ning-fu  in  Shensi  jirovince.  Its  longitude  is  36°4'  W.,  and  its 
latitude  30°5'  N.  In  olden  times  the  place  was  unknown,  but  can 
be  doubtfully  identified  with  A-nok-ta-shan  in  the  annotation  of 
Shui-ching.  In  the  neighbourhood  there  are  four  high  mountains, 
of  which  the  southern  is  called  Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan,  lying 
250  li  south-by-east  of  Kang-ti-ssu-shan,  and  270  li  ea.'^t  of  Ta-ko- 
la-cheng.  The  natives  call  it  so,  because  the  form  of  the  mountain 
resembles  an  elephant.  On  the  east  of  this  mountain  there  stands 
Ta-mu-chu-ko-ka-pa-pu-shan  (=  Tamchok-kabab),  which  is  the 
source  of  the  Ya-lu-tsang-pu  river  (=  Yere-tsangpo  or  Brahma- 
putra). Springs  come  out  from  the  northern  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  accumulate  into  a  lake  (35°5'  W.,  and  20°i'  N.).  The  water 
flows  north-westwards  for  70  li,  and  receives  a  stream  coming  from 
the  north-east.  The  stream  lies  in  the  mountains  80  li  north-east 
of  Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu.  Two  streams  flow  westwards  from  the 
mountain  and  turn  north-westwards  after  their  junction.  It  now 
takes  a  sinuous  course  for  60  li,  turns  south-westwards,  and  joins  the 
main  river.     This  is  a  source. 

The  river  flows  further  to  the  west-by-north  for  40  li,  then  to 
the  north-east,  to  be  met  by  the  water  of  lake  Kung-sheng  (=  Gun- 
rhu-tso),  which  sinks  under  the  ground  of  the  lake  basin,  but 
which,  aft>T  reappearing,  and  after  receiving  three  northern  afilu- 
ents,  runs  south-westwards  to  the  river. 


'  I  h  ivi-  (inly  omitted  a  couple  of  sentences,  which  h.ive  no  immediate  connection 
with  the  problem. 


S^-  .^ 


■ff* 


%.    .-<-W 


-EiKi; 


^.mk 


IT 


i  1 


184 


TRAXS-HI  MALAYA 


(MAP. 


li-' 


•A 


Tr 


The  lake  of  Kung-shcng-o-mo  has  two  sources  —  one  coming 
from  the  north-cast,  from  Ta-ko-la-kung-ma-shan,  and  flowing 
150-160  li;  the  other  from  the  east,  from  the  western  foot  of  Ma- 
crh-yo-mu-linR  (=  Marium-la)  in  the  western  frontiers  of  Cho- 
shu-te.  This  last-mentioned  mountain  forms  the  eastern  boundary 
of  A-li,  and  is  the  chief  range  going  south-eastwards  from  Kang-ti- 
ssu.  The  water  (of  the  lake  Kung-sheng)  llows  westwards  for 
more  than  50  li,  and  forms  another  lake,  80  li  wide,  and  without 
an  outlet.  However,  more  than  10  li  farther  to  the  west  there  is  a 
third  lake  with  a  subterranean  source  and  with  a  length  of  ,^0  li. 
A  stream  comes  from  the  north  to  the  lake.  The  ri%-er  now  flows 
south-westwards  for  60  li,  and  receives  a  stream  coming  from  the 
north-east.  40  li  farther  south-westwards  it  receives  a  stream 
coming  from  the  northern  mountains;  farther  south-westwards  the 
river  meets  the  water  from  Lang-chuan-ka-pa-jiu-shan. 

The  water  forms  the  lake  Ma-piu-mu-ta-lai  (=  Tso-mavang). 
From  south  to  north  it  is  150  li  long,  from  east  to  west  80  or  100  li 
wide,  and  has  a  circumference  of  more  than  200  li.  On  the  northern 
side  of  the  lake  there  arc  two  streams  coming  from  the  north.  The 
lake  is  situated  120  li  to  the  south  of  Kang-ti-ssu.  The  water 
flows  out  from  the  west  of  the  lake  into  the  lake  Lang-ka  (=  Lan- 
gak-tso)  at  a  distance  of  60  li.  The  latter  lake  receives  a  stream 
coming  from  the  north-east.  Lake  Lang-ka  has  a  narrow  rec- 
tangular shape,  pointed  and  elongated,  the  length  from  south  to 
north  being  170  li,  and  the  width  fiom  east  to  west  100  li.  Its 
northern  pointed  corner  has  the  stream  coming  from  north-east. 
There  are  three  source;;  on  the  southern  foot  at  a  distance  of  70 
li  from  a  southern  branch  of  Kang-ti-ssu;  they  flow  southwards, 
unite  into  one  stream,  which  takes  a  south-westerly  course  for 
150  I Oo  li  before  entering  the  lake.  The  lake  is  the  same  in 
circumference  and  area,  but  different  in  outline. 

The  water  (of  lake  Lang-ka)  flows  out  from  the  west,  and  after 
running  westwards  for  more  than  100  li  it  turns  to  the  south-west, 
and  is  now  called  the  I^ang-chu-ho,  and  takes  a  sinuous  course  for 
more  than  200  li.  Then  it  receives  the  Chu-ka-la-ho  coming 
from  the  north-east. 


) 


This   description    of   the    position   01    the   source   of   the 

Sutlcj   is  of  such  oxtraonlinury  interest  that  1  do  not  like 

to  reserve  it  for  my  s'-ientific  work,  and  the  less  so  that  it 

supports    the    theory    I    expressed    when    in    India,  that    the 

Ta^e-tsant^jx)  is  nothing  but    the   uppermost   .section   of   the 


iwUrr-L-    ul 


.1... 
liii; 


Sutlej, 


)thcr 


words,  tliat  the  source  of 
the  Ta,u'e-tsan(;;po  is  also  that  of  the  Sutlej.  Many  quota- 
tions have  been  looked   up  during  the  discussion  that    has 


t-A4's*i.VS-^> '-.''  /itiSi. 


';'*Ki>S.&,  v  '-::'■&•"■>'¥': 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  SUTLKJ 


185 


arisen  on  this  j)r()ljlcm,  but  they  cannot  compare  in  im- 
portance with  the  one  just  cittjl,  which,  moreover,  is  sixty 
years  older  than  the  oldest  of  the  others,  namely,  (krard's 
opinion  that  the  (iunchu-lso  is  the  sourrc  of  the  Sutlej. 

The  description  in  Chi  Chao  Xan's  Ilydnv^riiphy  is 
distinguished  by  the  same  careful  c(}nformily  iviih  the  truth 
and  conscientiousness  as  all  other  Chinese  geographical 
descriptions.  Compare  the  (lescri|)ti<)n  of  Kailas  (Kang- 
rinpoche)  with  what  I  have  already  said  about  it. 

Lang-chuan-ka-j)a  pu  is  the  Chinese  translation  of  the 
Tilx-tan  Langchen-kabab,  which  literally  means  the 
"Source  of  the  Sutlej."  When  the  Chinese  author 
informs  us  that  east  of  Langchen-kabal)  lies  '["amchok- 
kabab,  which  is  the  source  of  the  river  Yere-tsangpo 
(Brahmaputra),  we  must  admit  that  his  descrii)tion  is 
quite  in  accordance  with  the  truth,  as  I,  the  first  European 
to  visit  this  country,  have  myself  discovered ;  for  on  the 
Tamlung-la  I  stored  on  the  pass  which  parts  the  water 
Ix'twcen  the  Brahmaputra  and  Sutlej,  and  immediately  to 
the  south  of  the  pass  I  saw  Gang-lung-gangri  and  the 
glacier  from  which  the  Tage-tsangpo  takes  its  rise,  and 
in    which   the   source   of   the   Sutlej    lies. 

It  is  further  said  that  the  lake  Gunchu-tso  has  two 
source  streams  —  one  from  the  north-cast,  from  the  moun- 
tain Ta-ko-lakung-ma,  which  is  evidently  identical  with 
D'Anville's  Tacra-concla ;  the  other  from  the  west  side 
of  the  pass  Marium-la:  an  account  which  agrees  with 
Ryder's  map  in  all  ])articulars.  At  present  the  Gunchu- 
tso  is  completely  cut  olT  and  is  salt;  it  therefore  is  no 
longer  connected  with  the  Sutlej  system.  But  147  years 
ago  it  had  an  outlet  which  ran  partly  underground,  and 
then,  rising  up  again,  joined  the  Langchen-kamba  or  Tage- 
tsangpo.  Ami  that  the  Tage-tsangpo  was  at  one  time 
considered  by  the  Til)etans  to  Ix  the  headwater  of  the 
Sutlej  is  apparent  from  the  fact  that  its  name,  Langchen- 
kamba,  is  still  applied  to  the  upper  of  the  two  sacred  source 
streams  in  the  valley  of  the  Tage-tsangpo. 

And,  again,  it  is  said:  This  water,  that  is,  the  water  of 
the  Langchen-kabab,  or  the  headwater  of  the  Sutlej,  forms 
the  lake  Ma-piu-mu-ta-lai,  the  Tso-mavang  or  Tso-mavam, 


iV%-  ,=ii^^^^■ 


^mM 


t 


I) 


i86 


TRAXS-HIMAI.AYA 


CHAP. 


as  the  name  is  also  pronounced ;  on  D'Anvillc's  map 
(Map  2).  it  i>  written  Ma  i)ama  Talai,  and  D'Anville  ex- 
plains that  Talai  sii^nifies  lake.  He  mi,t,dit  have  added 
that  it  is  tlu'  same  word  as  in  Dalai  Lama,  the  priest, 
whose  wisdom  is  as  unfathomaMe  as  the  oeean ;  for  the 
Chinese  word  'i'alai  or  Dalai  means  ocean.  Hv  the  use 
of  this  word  the  Chinese  author  wished  to  imply  that  Tso- 
mavanj^  is  much  larj^er  than  the  other  lakes  mentioned 
in  his  text. 

The  sur])lus  water,  as  tluTe  is  every  reason  to  assume, 
flowed  in  the  year  1 762  fn^m  Tso-mavan^  throu<,di  the 
channel  to  Lan<^ak  tso.  The  lenj^th  of  the  channel  was 
(k)  li,  which  C(jrresponds  to  my  5^  miles.  All  the  northern 
tributaries  which  flow  into  the  two  lakes  from  the  valleys 
of  the  Trans  Himalaya  are  correctly  noted.  The  lake 
Laniiak  is  called  Lan.i,'  ka.  On  DWnville's  map,  the 
material  for  which  was  supplied  by  the  Jesuits  who  lived 
in  Fekin  in  the  time  of  the  Kmpenjr  Kan.^  Ili  (at  the 
be,t;inning  of  the  eighteenth  century),  the  lake  is  named 
Lanken.  On  the  sanu-  map  the  river  'lowing  thence 
westwards  is  called  Lanc-tchou  (Sutlej).  but  it  is  sug- 
gested, absurdly  enough,  that  it  is  the  upper  course  of 
the  Ganges.  D'.Anville  names  the  mountains  south  of 
Tso-mavang  Lantchia-Kepou,  which  is  Langchen-kabab, 
and  the  mountains  lying  to  the  south-east  of  tl.em  Tam- 
tchou,  that  is,  Tamchok,  in  which  he  quite  correctly 
places  the  origin  of  the  Yarou  Tsanpou,  the  Brahmaputra. 
The  material  for  the  maj)  of  the  whole  Chinese  Empire, 
which  the  Jesuits  presented  to  the  Emperor  Kang  Hi  iri 
the  year  1718,  was  collected  between  the  years  17^8  and 
1 7 16,  and  the  Emperor  procured  information  alxjut  Tibet 
through  natives,  who  were  prepared  for  their  work  by  the 
Jesuits,  just  as  in  later  times  English  topographers  have 
trained  Indian  ])undits. 

From  '^'Anville's  map  we  learn  that  200  years  ago 
the  Sutlej  llowed  out  of  Langak-tso  through  '  the  bed 
I  have  already  described.  Professor  Ogawa's  translation 
of  the  Chinese  text  shows  us  that  even  in  the  vear  1762, 
or  ])erliaps  some  years  before,  the  river  still  emerged  from 
the    Langak-tso.    And    it   is   expressly   said    that    the   river 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  SUTLEJ 


,87 


t^i 


Chu-ka-la-ho  (Chu-kar,  which,  however,  is  said  to  descend 
from  the  north-east  instead  of  the  south  east)  is  only  a 
tributary. 

In  the  year  1846  Henry  Strachey  found  no  visible 
outk't,  but  he  says  that  there  is  one  underground,  and 
considers  it  prol)abk'  that  the  channel  also  may  carry 
water  when  the  lake  has  risen  after  heavy  rains. 

On  July  .^o.  190H.  I  hear!  from  the  chief  lama  of  the 
monastery  Dolchu  gompa,  who  was  born  in  the  neighlxiur- 
ho(Kl  and  was  then  fifty-five  years  old,  that  when  he  was 
quite  young,  water  occasionally  flowefl  out  of  the  lake. 
But  when  he  was  ten  years  old,  that  would  be  in  the  year 
1863,  this  water  had  failed,  and  since  then  no  more  had 
Ix'en  seen.  On  the  other  hand,  the  springs  in  the  Ixx] 
are  constant  both  in  winter  and  in  summer,  and  are 
independent  of  the  precipitation.  The  monks  l)elievc  that 
the  water  comes  from  I.angak-tso,  but  nevertheless  they 
call  it  the  Langchen  kabab,  the  river  which  flows  out  of 
the  mouth  of  the  elephant. 

My  investigations  on  the  s[)ot,  as  well  as  the  Chinese 
quotation,  prove  that  Colonel  S.  G.  Burrard  is  quite  right 
in  his  masterly  descri[)tion  of  the  rivers  of  the  Himalayas 
and  Tilx't  (Calcutta,  1907),  when  he  includes  Tso-mavang 
and  Langak-tso  and  all  their  aflluents  in  the  drainage 
basin  of  the  Sutlej,  and  therefore  I  will  here  cite  two 
sentences  of  Colonel  Burrard : 

The  connection  between  the  two  lakes  may  be  taken  as 
established,  but  that  between  the  western  lake  and  the  Sutlej  basin 
is  still  open  to  question.  If  the  water  from  Rakas  Tal  flows  into 
the  Sutlej  once  a  ccnturj-,  and  then  only  for  .'^uch  a  ^.hort  period 
as  to  be  observed  by  no  one,  we  shall  still  be  justified  in  including 
the  lakes  in  the  catchment  area  of  the  river. 

And  in  this  connection  I  would  point  out  that  the 
water-level  of  Tibetan  rivers  and  lakes  is  subject  to 
periodical  fluctuations,  flependent  on  the  precipitation,  of 
the  same  kinfl  as  the  Bruckner  perio<ls.  The  level  in  the 
two  lakes  varies  from  year  to  }ear.  M  the  present  time 
they  are  very  low,  but  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  them 
rising  gradually  m  a  more  or  less  distant  luture.  Tso- 
mavang  may  rise  so  that  its  water  may  again  flow  through 


?W^i^^i^^lM^n^^^^>W^^^Fw?^iM^^^W^Z^P^J^^TF^^^s 


!f 


i 


1 88 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP.   I 


the  channtl  to  Langak  tso,  and  this  lake  at  length  may 
discharge  its  surplus  water,  as  formerly,  through  the  dry 
U-d  of  thv  Sullej.  It  is  more  probable,  however,  that 
Lan<,'ak  tso  is  ai)proa{hing  a  time  when  it  will  lose  its 
subterranean  outlet  also,  and  l)e  (juite  isolated,  like 
(lunelui  tso  and  I'.inf,'gonf^-tso,  and  consefjUently  lx.'Come 
salt  in  timi'.  Hut  after  it  has  lost  its  outlet  it  may  Ik-  a 
\(m<!,  time,  as  Professor  Hriickner  informs  me,  iK'fore  the 
lake  iK'conies  notiteably  salt.  The  next  step  in  the 
development  will  be  that  Tso  mavanj;  will  Ik;  eut  off  from 
Lanj^ak  tso  and  likewise  lx.tome  salt. 

llowiver,  we  need  not  |)lunge  into  speculations  and 
|)ro}^n()sti(ations  of  the  future,  which  may  have  surprises 
in  store  about  which  we  can  form  only  more  or  less 
pr(.l)able  conjectures.  It  is  our  duty  to  rely  solely  on  fact 
and   observation. 

And  now  that  we  are  agreed  that  the  two  lakes  Ix'long 
to  the  drainage  area  oi  the  Sutlej,  the  question  is:  Which 
of  the  riviis  <kl)ouching  into  Tso-mavang  is  the  head- 
water of  the  Sutiij?  Naturally,  the  longest  and  the  one 
which  carrirs  most  water.  The  river  which  once  flowed 
out  of  (junchu  tso  has  no  claim  to  this  honour,  and  the 
(iunchu-tso  must  Ik-  rejected  as  the  e'jurce  of  the  Sutlej. 
The  Tage-tsangpo  discharged  388  cubic  feet  of  water  per 
second,  while  all  the  other  streams  entering  Tso-mavang 
carried  at  most  100  cubic  feet  each.  The  source  of  the 
Tage  tsangpo  in  the  front  of  the  Ganglung  glacier  is 
therefore  the  source  of  t;i'    Sutlej. 


ill 


^i'^ , , 


/^ * ^',C*'4rt v^^'=^-^- r-'^'"^^'f  t^Vi  i'  >-■ 


.5^  -^j-'.-'Avt'-r"  V-Tc:f/  ij 


ll    . 


«•! 


I     '  i 


t '« 1 

■lil 

'I 


■i-Ja'^ 


CIIAPTHR   LI 

A    riLGRIMA(.I.     ROtND    KANG  RINPOCriE 

Wf  art-  a^ain  on  the  KhaKb  moor  and  tin-  day  is 
Sti.tcmUT  ^,  on  which  wc  arc  to  iKgin  the  circuit  of  the 
holy  mountain.  The  head  CJ..va  of  Parka  is  with  us  to 
hol.l  me  in  check,  but  I  take  very  ko(k1  care  not  to  Ix-tray 
my  plans.  Tserin^.  Rahsang.  Nam^^yal.  and  Ishe  are  to 
fro  with  me;  they  are  Lamai^ts,  and  are  ^lad  of  the 
opportunity  to  come  nearer  the  gates  of  salvation  by 
wandering  round  the  holv  mountain.  We  take  provisions 
for  three  davs,  the  absolutely  necessary  instruments, 
sketch-  and  note-lx)oks.  The  stand  of  the  large  camera 
and  one  of  the  l)oat's  tari)aulin^  are  to  servi-  as  a  tent. 
The  whole  baggage  is  only  a  light  load  for  a  horse-. 
I  ride  my  small  grey  Ladaki  an<l  the  four  min  march 
on  foot,  for  no  one'mav  ride  round  the  holy  mountain 
unless  he  is  a  heathen,"  like  myself.  The  rest  of  the 
caravan  is  to  wait  for  us  in  Khaleb,  and  my  tent  is  to 
Ix;  left  untouched  that  the  Tilx.-tans  may  think  that  I  am 
expected    back   in    the   evening. 

Tsering,  Xamgval,  and  Ishe  start  early,  and  Rabsang 
and  I  a  little  later.  The  Gova  and  his  men  come  to  ask 
what  it  all  means  and  whither  I  am  going,  but  I  answer 
onlv,  "I  shall  soon  lx<  back  again."  and  ride  olT  to  the 
north,   30°   E.,   to   the   mouth   of   the   Dunglung   valKy. 

The  others  wait  for  us  among  the  first  moraines,  anrl  then 
wc  proceed  in  close  column  up  and  down  among  old  rnoraines 
which  have  been  thrust  down  by  vanished  glaciers.  .V 
pa'">v  ''-f  '>i|<Trim'^.  from.  Kham.  in  the  distant  east  are 
resting  on 'the   bank  of   the    Dunglung    river     They   have 


I 


^J^-^:' 


' 


I 

'I 


Iv    ''i 


■   i 


•  I 


i! 


190 


TRAXS-niMALAYA 


CHAP. 


pitchcfl  their  tents,  and  their  horses  are  grazing  on  the 
fresh  grass.  From  the  top  of  the  moraine  is  seen  the 
northern    part  of  our  stormy  Langak-tso. 

We  ride  up  the  valley  and  soon  have  on  lx)th  sides 
solid  rock  of  hard  green  and  violet  conglomerate,  with 
huge  C(jnes  of  detritus  at  the  foot  of  the  slopes.  Enormous 
boulders  of  conglomerate  have  fallen  down  here.  On  the 
left  bank  of  the  river,  where  the  road  comes  up  from 
Tarchen,  stand  a  small  cubical  house  and  several  viauis 
and  chliorlciis  in  long  rows:  it  is  a  sacred  road,  the  road  of 
pilgrims  round  Kang  rinpoche. 

The  clilTs  assume  ever  wilder  forms,  falling  perpen- 
dicularly to  terraces  and  ])el\/.j  screes,  forming  steps  and 
ledges,  fortification-^,  battlements  and  towers,  as  though 
built  by  human  hands.  They  consist  of  sandstone  and 
conglomerate,  and  the  strata  (lip  10°  to  the  south,  and  to 
the  eye  ai)pear  horizontal.  \  small  bridge  .spans  the 
river.  .\  party  of  pilgrims  l)ehind  us  is  just  crossing  it. 
But  we  are  on  the  right  bank,  and  above  us  Xyandi-gompa 
is  perched  on  its  terrace.  .Xbove  it  rises  the  vertical  wall 
oi"  a  hpge  mountain  mass,  a  dangerous  background  for  the 
.  ■ia':v-ry.  Vp  on  a  ledge  dwelk  a  hermit,  and  quite  at 
the  i/p  stands  a  streamer  pcjle  named  Xyandi-kong. 
Five  years  ago  a  huge  block  fell  down  upon  the  monastery 
and  laid  half  of  it  in  ruins.  The  block  still  lies  in  the 
inner  court.  It  was  early  in  the  morning  after  long- 
continuous  rain ;  no  one  was  hurt,  but  the  monastery 
had  to  be  rebuilt. 

Two  monks,  two  old  women,  and  a  boy  received  us 
kindly,  and  said  it  was  the  first  time  they  had  seen  a 
European  in  X^yandi.  The  monastery,  as  well  as  the 
three  others  on  Kailas,  is  under  Tarchen-labrang,  which  is 
situated  on  the  southern  foot  of  the  mountain,  where  the 
pilgrims  begin  ;'.nd  end  their  circuit.  Curiou.sly  enough, 
these  monasteries  belong  to  Tongsa  Penlop,  the  Raja 
of  Bhotan.  The  preceding  year,  1906,  was  a  year  of  the 
fire  horse,  and  the  year  10  rS  will  be  a  year  of  the  earth 
horse;  every  twelfth  year  is  a  hor.se  year,  in  which  wood, 
fire,  earth,  iron,  or  water  's  ]irefixed  to  the  name  horse; 
the  Tibetan  cycle  (the  j)erioil  of  time  which  is  the  base  of 


* ', 


u 


ROUND    KAXC-RIXPOCHE 


191 


the  reckoning)  extends  over  sixty  years  with  the  names  of 
twelve  different  animals.  Every  horse  year,  and  accord- 
ingly every  twelfth  year,  crov.'ds  of  pilgrims  come  to 
Kailas.  The  monks  siiid  that  they  cannot  be  counted,  but 
they  knew  that  in  the  year  1907  more  than  5000  jnlgrims 
had  been  at  Xyandi,  of  whom  the  greater  part  came 
from    Ladak. 

The  Ihakaug,  or  hall  of  the  gods,  is  very  original. 
Four  pillars  supjxjrt  the  roof.  The  altar,  like  a  Chinese 
kiosque  of  wood  painted  in  colours,  stands  alone  and  in 
deep  shadow,  but  so  many  votive  lights  are  placed  in  front 
that  they  seem  like  a  festival  illumination.  An  especial 
lamp  hangs  before  the  image  of  Sakya-muni,  which  stands 
against  a  wall.  In  front  of  the  altar  is  a  huge  copper 
vessel  with  a  cover,  which  is  called  Tosungjon.  It  is  said 
to  have  flown  in  old  times  from  India  through  the  air.  In 
winter  it  is  filled  with  butter,  in  summer  with  chang.  A 
lama  with  a  brass  ladle  poured  the  consecrated  beverage 
into  the  bowls  of  my  men,  and  out  of  the  silver  bowls  with 
peacocks'  feathers  he  poured  holy  water  into  the  hollow  of 
their  hands;  they  drank  of  it  and  Ix^smeared  their  faces 
with  the  rest.  All,  e.xcept  Rabsang,  paid  due  reverence 
to  the  statues  and  prayed,  and  Tsering  had  murmured  his 
prayers  all  the  way  along  and  let  the  beads  of  his  rosary 
slip  through  his  fingers.  Two  fine  elephant's  tusks 
(Langchcn-salj-ni ptcii)  were  set  up  Ix-fore  the  altar. 

In  the  Tsenkang  hall  is  a  figure  of  Hlabsen  clothed  in 
gold  brocade  and  kadakhs,  the  god  of  Kang-rinpoche  and 
Tso-mavang.  In  the  ante-chamber  is  a  whole  arsenal  of 
guns  and  swords  and  wooden  and  leathern  shields,  each 
with  four  iron  lx)sses.  On  the  outside  of  the  monastery, 
which  fronts  the  holy  mountain,  rows  of  artistically 
sculptured  slabs  are  afl^ixed.  On  six  of  them  each  of 
the  holy  characters  is  incised,  and  each  of  the  f:^igantic 
characters  is  again  filled  in  with  the  invariable  alpha 
and  omega  of  Lamaism,  "Om  mani  padme  hum."  On 
other  flagstones  gods  are  carved  with  wonderful  dex- 
terity, and  one  feels  a  vain  desire  to  buy  one  or  two  of 
them. 

The    view    from    the    roof    is    indescribably    Ix^autiful. 


''-•I 


'I 


HI 


I!  ' 


|l  I 


h  I 


IQ2 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


Tlu'  iry  summit  of  K;inn-rini)ochc  rises  amid  fantastic 
li^uml' i>rt(ii>it<)us  rock.-,  and  in  the  foreground  are  the 
])i(lure;(|ue  superstruc  ture  of  the  monastery  and  its 
streamers    (niu>tration    265). 

Hut  time  tlies.  After  spendin*,'  three  hours  in  Xyandi, 
\\T  sav  farewell  to  the  monks,  descend  the  steep  path 
/.I'^/.dii'Xw^  amon<^  rubhisli  and  boulders,  and  continue  our 
journey  to  the  north-north-east  alonir  the  ri^dit  Ixink  of  the 
river.  '  At  every  turn  I  could  stancl  still  in  a^^toni>hment, 
for  this  valley  is  one  of  the  "grandest  and  most  beautiful  in 
its  \vildnes<  th.it  I  have  ever  seen.  The  precipice  on  the 
right  >ide  of  the  valley  is  divided  into  two  stages  with  a 
terrace  between  them,  and  in  the  mid-t  gapes  a  dark 
ravine.  On  the  left  side  the  rock  forms  a  single  vertical 
wall,  and  liere  the  eyes  fall  on  a  .succession  of  .angular 
forms  of  reliif,  rocks  like  congealed  cascades,  citadels, 
chun  h  towers,  and  emb,.  lied  fortifications,  parated  by 
cafion  like  hollows.  Water  from  meUing  snuwlklds  i)ours 
down  the  steej)  slopes.  One  such  jet  of  water  is  (|uite 
800  feet  high  and  white  as  milk;  the-  wind  turns  it  into 
.spray,  but  it  collects  again,  only  to  be  s])lit  up  against  a 
projection.  The  rock  around  it  is  wet  and  dark  with 
sjjurted  drops.  A  natural  rock  bridge  crosses  a  small  cleft 
with  vertical  walls. 

Immediately  beyond  the  monastery  the  .summit  of 
Kailas  is  lo.st  to  view,  but  .soon  a  bit  of  it  is  .seen  again 
through  a  gap.  We  passed  twelve  pilgrims,  and  soon  after 
a  .second  partv  resting  on  a  s'ope.  'i'luy  jjut  on  solemn 
faces  and  del  not  talk  with  one  another,  but  murmur 
l)ravers,  walking  with  their  bodies  bent,  and  leaning  on 
a  stall  —  free luently,  too,  without  a  staff.  How  they  have 
longed  to  come  here  I  And  now  they  are  here  and  walk 
round  the  mountain,  which  is  always  on  their  right.  They 
feel  no  weariness,  for  they  know  that  every  stej)  improves 
their  prospects  in  the  world  bevond  the  river  of  rkath. 
And  when  they  have  returned  to  their  black  tent>  in 
distant  valK'Vs,  '  they  tell  tlu  ir  friends  of  all  the'  wonders 
they  have  seen,  and  of  the  clouds,  which  sail  like  the 
dragon  ships  of  old  below  the  white  ^ummit  of  (langri. 

(■.".iijiw!     ("I'.irns    nre     cvervwiiero.     T.^-erin."     never 


(<„,., n 


l\ 


LI 


ROUXD    KAXG-RIXroCIIE 


193 


omits  to  take  up  a  stone  from  the  margin  of  the  road  and 
lay  it  as  his  contribution  on  every  such  votive  jiile,  and 
thereby  he  does  a  ,uo(k1  (kijd,  for  he  makes  the  way  less 
rough  for  those  who  come  after  him.  The  sun  looks  out 
through  a  gap,  and  throws  a  bright  yellow  light  into  the 
valley,  which  otherwise  is  in  shadow.  The  icy  peak  again 
ajjpears  much  foreshortened.  Several  tributaries  come  in 
from  the  sides,  and  towards  evening  the  river  rises,  con- 
taining quite  280  cubic  feet  of  water. 

A  man  from  Gertse  has  been  going  round  the  mountain 
for  twenty  successive  days,  and  now  has  just  accomplished 
his  tenth  circuit.  Dunglung-do  is  a  very  important  valley 
junction,  where  three  valleys  converge  —  the  Chamodung- 
chcn  from  the  north.  -0°  \V.,  the  Dunglung  from  the  north, 
5°  \V.,  and  the  third,  called  in  its  upi)er  course  Hledung])a, 
which  we  ascend.  V\'  now  have  granite  on  both  sides. 
Kailas  turns  a  shar;  edge  to  the  north,  and  from  here 
the  i)eak  resembles  a  tetrahedron  more  than  ever.  Agam 
the  mountain  is  concealed  by  an  elevation  of  the  ring 
which  girdles  it  as  Monte  Somma  encircles  Vesuvius. 
The  main  river  swells  uj)  towards  evening ;  the  other  two 
are  sjjanned  by  bridges.  Numbers  of  boulders  lie  all 
about.  .Ml  is  granite,  and  therefore  the  mountain  forms 
are  rounder  and  more  lumpy  (Illustration  267). 

.\t  length  we  see  the  monastery  Diri-pu  in  front  of  us, 
standing  on  the  slope  on  the  right  side  of  the  valley.  A 
huge  block  of  granite  beside  the  path  up  to  it  bears  the 
usual  sacred  characters,  and  there  also  are  long  manis, 
streamers,  and  cairns.  .Ml  tlie  j)ilgrims  we  have  overtaken 
in  the  course  of  the  day  turn  into  the  monastery,  where 
they  can  pass  the  night  free  of  charge.  The  convent  is 
crammed  full  after  the  arrival  of  a  ])arty  of  pilgrims 
belonging  to  the  Pemlx)  sect.  These,  of  course,  wander 
round  the  mountain  in  the  reverse  direction,  and  the 
ortJKjilox  cast  contemjjtuous  glances  at  them  when  they 
miet.  I  prtfer  to  fiitch  my  tent  on  the  rof)f,  where  the 
luL'gage  of  thi'  j)ilgrims  i.^  piled  up.  Here  also  there  is  a 
tnie  view  of  Kaila-^.  raising  its  summit  due  south.  With  a 
tem])erature  of  40°  at  nine  o'clock  it  is  cold  and  disagree- 
able, for  a  strong  wind   jjiows,  and  my  lent,  consisting  only 

'  OL.   U  O 


194 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CBAT. 


y 


''n 


of  the  camera-stand  covered  with  a  linen  cloth,  is  too  small 
to  allow  of  a  fire  being  lij.^hted  (Illustration  268). 

Since  I  had  Ix-cn  successful  in  fixing  the  positions  of 
the  sources  of  the  Brahmaputra  and  Sutlej,  my  old  dream 
of  discovering  the  source  of  the  Indus  was  revived,  and  all 
my  aspirations  and  ambition  were  now  concentrated  on 
this  object.  When  I  now  learned  from  the  monks  that 
the  i)()int  where  the  famous  river  issues  forth  from  the 
'•Mouth  of  the  Lion"  was  only  three  days'  journey  to  the 
north-east  beyond  a  lofty  pass,  everything  else  seemed  of 
trifling  consequence  compared  to  an  advance  into  the 
unknown  country  in  the  north.  We  held  a  council  of 
war;  we  had  provisions  only  for  two  days  more,  and  we 
had  not  brought  enough  money  v»ith  us,  and,  moreover, 
the  state  of  affairs  in  Khaleb  was  too  uncertain  to  allow  of 
greater  hazards.  I  therefore  decided  to  carry  out  my 
original  ])lan  in  the  meantime  and  complete  the  pilgrimage, 
and  afterwards  make  the  source  of  the  Indus  the  object  of 
a  fresh  excursion  from  Khaleb,  or,  if  the  worst  came  to  the 
worst,  from  Gartok. 

On  September  \  we  take  leave  of  the  monks  of  Diri-pu, 
cross  by  a  bridge  the  river  which  comes  down  from  the 
pass  Tseti-lachen  la  in  the  Trans-Himalaya,  from  the  other 
side  of  which  the  water  flows  to  the  Indus,  and  mount 
in  an  easterly  direction  over  rough  steep  slopes  thickly 
lx;strewn  with  granite  boulders.  On  our  right  is  the  river 
which  is  fed  by  the  glaciers  of  Kailas;  it  is  quite  short,  but 
is  very  full  of  water.  The  path  becomes  still  steeper, 
winding  among  immense  blocks  of  granite,  and  leads  up 
to  the  first  hump,  after  which  the  ground  is  a  little  more 
even  to  the  next  break.  Here  we  have  a  splendid  xnew  of 
the  short  truncatc^l  glacier  which,  fed  from  a  sharply  defined 
trough-shaped  firn  basin,  lies  on  the  north  side  of  Kailas. 
Its  terminal,  lateral,  and  medial  moraines  arc  small _  but 
distinct.  Eastwards  from  Kailas  runs  off  an  exceedingly 
sharp,  pointed,  and  jagged  ridge,  covered  on  the  north  side 
with  snow,  and  belts  of  pebbles  in  the  snow  give  all  this 
side  a  furrowed  appearance.  From  all  corners  of  the  ice 
m-mtlc  and  the  snowficlds  foaming  brooks  hurry  down  to 
the  river.     On  our  left,  northwards,  the  mountains  consist 


I     * 


■',  I 


I 


:!i 


!  i' 


'V' 


>'^   ! 


u 


ROUND   KAXG-RINPOCHE 


195 


of  vertical  fissured  granite  in  wild  pyramidal  forms.  Kailas 
is  protected  on  the  north  by  immense  masses  of  granite, 
but  the  mountain  itself  is  in  all  i)robability  of  conglomerate, 
as  shown  by  the  nearly  horizontal  Ix'dding  plainly  per- 
ceptible in  the  projecting  ledges,  sharply  markal  snow- 
lines, and  belts  of  ice.  The  summit  rises  alxjve  this  sea  of 
wild  mountains  like  a  mighty  crystal  of  hexagonal  form. 

A  party  of  poor  women  and  children  climbed  WL'arily  up 
to  the  pass.  An  elderly  man,  who  was  now  making  his 
ninth  circuit,  made  no  objection  to  join  our  party;  he 
knew  the  country  and  could  give  information  alx)ut  it.  On 
another  rise  in  the  ground,  called  Tutu-dapso,  we  saw 
hundreds  of  votive  cairns,  3  feet  high  —  quite  a  forest 
of  stone  pyramids  —  like  innumerable  gravestones  in  a 
churchyard  (Illustration  270). 

Slowly  and  laboriously  we  climlx;d  up  this  arfluous 
pass,  one  of  the  most  troublesome  on  the  whole  journey. 
Thicker  and  thicker  lay  the  boulders,  exclusively  of  granite 
in  all  possible  varieties,  some  pink  and  some  so  light  a 
grey  as  to  be  almost  white.  Between  two  lx)ulders  lay  a 
suspicious-looking  bundle  of  clothes.  We  examined  it,  and 
found  that  it  contained  the  body  of  a  man  who  had  collapsed 
in  making  the  tour  of  the  mountain  of  the  gods.  His 
features  were  rigid,  and  he  seemed  poor  and  emaciated. 
No  one  knew  who  he  was,  and  if  he  had  any  relations  they 
would  never  learn  that  his  i)ilgrimagc  had  launched  him 
into  new  adventures  among  the  dark  mazes  of  the  soul's 
migrations. 

Our  old  man  stops  at  a  flat  granite  block  of  colossal 
dimensions,  and  says  that  this  is  a  dikpa-karnak,  or  a  test- 
stone  for  sinners.  A  narrow  tunnel  runs  under  the  block, 
and  whoever  is  without  sin,  or  at  any  rate  has  a  clear 
conscience,  can  creep  through  the  passage,  but  the  man 
who  sticks  fast  in  the  middle  is  a  scoundrel.  I  asked  the 
old  man  whether  it  might  not  happen  that  a  thin  rogue 
would  wriggle  through  while  a  fat,  honest  fellow  might 
stick  fast;  but  he  answered  very  seriously  that  stoutness 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  result  of  the  trial,  which 
depended  only  on  the  state  rvf  the  soul.  Evidently  our 
honest  Ishe  was  not  certain  which  way  the  balance  of  his 


h    ) 


I    u 


In 


••I 


■I ; 


Ell! 


!(/) 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


(onscicntc  inclined,  for,  kforc  wc  were  aware,  we  saw 
Iiim  (li>ai)|)(arinK  under  the  l)l()ck,  and  heard  him  iHiflini;, 
l)antin,^,  and  ^roanin^'.  seruti  liinj,'  with  hi-  hands  and  tryiii}^ 
to  gel  a  foothold  behind.  Hut  when  he  h;ul  iloundered 
.;l)out  inside  long  and  vigorously,  he  was  at  last  obliged  to 
(all  for  help  in  a  half  >trangled  voice.  We  laughed  till  wc 
could  hardly  keej)  on  our  feet,  and  let  him  stay  awhile  in 
his  hole  because  of  his  manifist  >infulness.  Thin  the  two 
(jther  men  dragged  him  out  by  the  K'g>,  and  he  looked 
extremely  confuxd  (and  du>ty)  when  he  at  length  emerged 
again  into  the  outer  world,  an  unmasked  villain.  The  old 
m;in  told  us  that  a  woman  Iiad  become  S(j  firmly  fixed  that 
she  had  actually  to  be  digged  out. 

Some  200  i)'aces  farther  in  this  maze  of  granite  boulders, 
among  which  wc  wandered  as  in  lanes  between  low  houses 
and  walls,  stands  a  test  stone  of  another  kind.  It  consists 
of  three  blocks  leaning  on  one  another,  with  two  hollows 
between  them.  The  task  is  to  creei)  through  the  left 
passage  and  return  by  the  right,  that  is,  in  the  ortlKxlox 
direction.  Here  I>he  made  up  for  his  jnevious  discom- 
fiture by  crawling  through  both  holes.  I  told  him  frankly 
that  there  was  no  skill  retiuired  here,  for  the  holes  were  so 
large  that  even  small  yaks  could  go  through.  However, 
the"  sinner  had  in  this  second  stone  an  opportunity  of 
preserving  at  least  a  show  of  righteousness. 

Our  wanderings  round  Kang-rinpoche,  the  "holy 
ice  mountain"  or  the  "ice  jewel,"  is  one  of  my  most 
memorable  recollections  of  Tilx't,  and  I  ([uite  understand 
how  the  Tibetans  can  regard  as  a  divine  sanctuary  this 
wonderful  mo"atain  which  has  so  striking  a  resemblance 
to  a  chhortou  the  monument  which  is  erected  in  memory 
of  a  deceased  saint  within  or  without  the  temples.  How 
often  during  our  roamings  had  I  heard  of  this  mountain 
of  salvation !  .\n<l  now  I  myself  walked  in  pilgrim  garb 
along  the  path  U'tween  the  monasteries,  which  are  set, 
like  precious  stones  in  a  bangle,  in  the  track  of  ])ilgrims 
round  Kang-rinpoche.  the  finger  which  points  up  to  the 
might V  gods  throned  like  stars  in  unfathoma])le  space. 

n.m    inc    nigiiianu^    01     is.ii.u::    i;;    i::-^     iCmoies,    ^,,s,, 
from    Xaktsang    and    Amdo,    from    the    unknown    Bongba, 


;i,|, 


u 


ROUND    K.\\(J-RINP()C11H 


'97 


wliiih  we  havL'  luard  of  only  in  vague  r(.'j)orts.  from  the 
blat  k  tints  uliidi  stand  like  tlu'  sjxtts  of  a  leopard  scattiTcd 
among  the  dnary  valleys  of  Tilxt,  from  Ladak  in  the 
mountains  of  the  far  west,  and  from  the  Himalayan  lands 
in  the  south,  thousamls  of  pilgrims  come  hither  annually, 
t)  pace  slowly  and  in  deei)  meditation  the  28  miles  round 
tile  navel  of  the  earth,  the  mountain  of  salvation.  I  saw 
the  silent  ])rocession,  the  faithful  l)an<ls,  among  which 
all  ages  and  both  sexes  are  represented,  youths  and 
maidens,  strong  men  with  wife  and  child,  grey  old  men 
who  would  before  tluir  death  follow  in  the  footsteps  of 
countless  pilgrims  to  win  a  happier  existence,  ragged 
fellows  who  lived  like  j)arasites  on  the  charity  of  the  other 
pilgrims,  scoundrels  who  had  tt)  do  ])enance  for  a  crime, 
rohlxrs  who  had  jjlundered  peaceful  travellers,  chiefs, 
otricials,  herdsmen,  and  nomads,  a  varied  train  of  shady 
humanity  on  the  thorny  road,  which  after  interminable 
ages  ends  in  the  deep  peace  of  Nirvana.  August  and 
serene  Siva  looks  down  from  her  paradise,  and  Illabscn 
from  his  jewelled  ])alace,  on  the  innumerable  human 
beings  below  who  circle,  like  asteroids  round  the  sun,  in 
ever  fresh  troops,  round  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  going 
up  through  the  western  valley,  crossing  the  Dolma  pa.ss, 
and  descending  the  eastern  valley. 

We  soon  discover  that  most  of  these  simy)le  j)ilgrims 
have  no  clear  idea  of  the  Knefits  their  journey  is  su[)posed 
to  confer  on  them.  When  they  arc  questioned,  they 
usually  answer  that  after  death  they  will  Ix'  allowed  to  sit 
near  the  god  of  Gangri.  Ikit  what  they  all  believe  nv  >[ 
firmly  and  obstinately  is  that  the  pilgrimage  will  bri  " 
them  a  blessing  in  this  world.  It  will  ward  off  all  i-.il 
from  their  tents  and  huts,  v,ill  keep  away  sickness  fn  r.i 
their  children  and  herds,  protect  them  fnjm  robbers, 
thieves,  and  losses,  will  send  them  rain,  good  pasturage, 
and  increase  among  their  yaks  and  sheep,  will  act  like  a 
talisman,  and  guarrl  themselves  anrl  their  pro[)erty  as  the 
four  s,)irit  kings  protect  the  images  of  the  tem[)le  halls 
from    demons.     They    march    with    light    elastic    step,    thi'V 


„..:.i,,,. 


Tile     iCV-COid     Ciitting     wsnd     niji     the     s(.;;!'eiiiiig 


sun;   every  step  is  a  link  in  a  chain  whirh  cannot  be  broken 


Ifl< 


l»     ' 


'I' 

7 


■I.; 


198 


TRAXS-illMALAVA 


CH 


iSiM!::.r:^^^^,^^t  :;|;;fM>c;.ocutc   and    torment    t 

step    nearer    to    the   Unt    whTr.    tf,     ""•    ^""^^   '^^'"^ 
'lurins     the   whole     pcSn.t±^  ""«    ^''^^^'■"^-     ^^ 

padme  hum,"  and  Jverv^  "?,  ?H.-  ''  ^'■■'^'  ^^"^  ""^^ 
let  a  Ix-ad  of  the  r 0  arv  n.  ^h'  ^''V'V'  ""^■''^^  ^^c 
stranger  also  u  tmn  ^  \-'  •^^'■""^'^'  ^''^'  finfi^'rs.  Th 
awe.     It         ncXiabf:  ,^''"«-'-'"I"-he   with   a    feeling 

world,  ^^.un  TSram^^^^  T\  ^m""'  "^"""^^'"  '"  ^h 
it.  Vet  there  arc  ni  licw,"  'f  r  ^'^'"'  ^'"""^  ^•'^-  "^tl 
hcanl  of  Kang-n-npochr^-hilJ  tL^'lf'^  "^.'^  '^''^^■^'  "^•^•^• 
know  Kailas.  th,,uKev  ha t  ''  I"^'"'  1!"'^  ^'^^"^^'^^--^  ^^ 
lifts  up  its  hea.l      xEfor"  ""^'''"  "■^'''■^'  ''^^""t  Blan, 

with  the  same  fedin^  of  r^^^^  approaches  the  mountair 

Kang  kora,   the  Ganr'ri  r.Vrlo      aT  ^'^"^"'i   ^^^^^  track 

performed  the-  merit.  iouslatr"n  f""'^  ^^"'''  ^'  ^ad 
which  consists  in  measu;^g  th  1  n  n h  ^^^''''''7^"' 
length  of  the  pilgrim's  IxxK  rw  ''\^''^"'^>'  ^^X  the 
worth  thirteen  <!rJinarv%Sts  on  fo"  a/^'^'T'^"^  '"^ 
was  of  no  value  at  all'  bccausr  T  u-oc  -J-  -.  I"l«""iage 
sai<I;  I  must  go  on  fa)t  if  I  wi.h  ?  .  ""^Z"^''  ^^'  ''^^  '"^^ 
from  it.  ^  ^  '^  '  '"'''''"^  to  derive  any  benefit 

lateJ'we"  si:  twoUn;Tm.  ^^'"^'   '^  ,^'-P"   --e  davs 

live.1  on  the  alms  o    th     hithful      7^"^  u    ^''^^  ^^'^  ^^ey 
•lays  fn.m  Tarchen    o  Dir     ,  ,7  ^''?  '^"^^  i"  "i"<^ 

still    eleven    .lavs    t.f  fini"h^^\""'^  ''^'^'^^"^^ 
them  for  half  an  hour  "^  .J.'^^  T'^'         accompanic^d 

■  "  "^^^  'O  ubbcrve  iheir  procedure. 


Li  I 


^m. 


( 


CRAP. 


■    I 


:'i 


>\ 


Lli 


j^iiaKi^.#^^ri^«^i{- 


M 


KOUM)   KAXG-klM'ocnK 


This 


'99 


consistfd  (,f  six  movinnnfs.  Supi)oso  the  vouriL' 
lama  stan.I.ng  <.n  the-  path  with  his  forclu-a.l  hdd  si «  ,  v 
(i  n  an.I  h.s  arms  hanKin^  l..<,sdy  at  his  si.ks.  (,)  c 
plac.s  the  palms  „  h.s  han.ls  toK.;hcr  an<i  raises  thVm  to 
he  to,  of  h.s  hca,l  at  the  same  time  Umli,.  -  his  hc^<|  a 
tie  .lown;  (.)  he  hivs  his  hands  un.ler  his  chin  iftL« 
uj,  h.s  head  apm;  (,)  h,  kneels  ujn.n  the  .rot.nd  I  n  • 
forwards    an.l  lays   himself   full   h-p.^h   on   thc^^    u nd    >s"th 

•r  is  it  ;^il  ;  ^5,^  he  stretches  his  ri.ht  hand  forwar'ls  as 
Jar  as  it  u.lj  reach.  an.I  scratches  a  mark  in  the  soil  with  i 
piece  o    l.ne    which  shows  the  line  which  n,ust  U   tou  hed 

un  wth   hi     h      ;  "^'^^  •"'^•^'"^^■;    ='"'1   (^>)  he  raises  himself 
up  ^ith    h.s   hands,    makes   two  „r   three   strides   ur.   to   the 

r?un  i  T''    rr^'    '^''    ''''''    ^^■^'""^-     ••^"•'    thus  'he    goes 
round  the  whole  mountain.  ^ 

the^lhll''*'r    •""■''   ""•'/'''•"  ''"   ""'   ''"^'•>-=    thev   perform 

he    v^ hole    business    u.th    composure,    but    thev    lose    their 

breath    especially  on  the  wav  up  to  the  pass    '  And  on  the 

UntiZt'r    '"    ^^•H'^^'^^^^    ar^ ;,ac:^"'!o"t^ 
n  ■   of   ,h  '  ''■■"'""f '■  t''  '"  ''^'  ''"^^■'  hca<i  foremost'^ 

ound  -  nd  wr'  ""'"•''  '"\'  "''■^•^''>'  accomplished  one 
round,  and  uas  now  on  the  secon.l.  When  he  had 
fimshcl,   m   twelve  days,    he   inten.Ied    to   Utake   himself   t 

theTs?-^of-hiri;'^'  'l^^rr  ^'"''  '■^-  ••--  --mi  fo^ 

We    whnfn  ■^"''    ^V'='^  *'"'>■   t^^-^'^tv    years   old  ! 

\\e,  ^^ho  in  our  superior  wisdom  sm.ie  at  th.  ^e  exhibition 

o  vn  tiir"'  r^  self  mortification,  ought  to  compa  c  our 
o«n  faith  and  convictions  with  theirs.  The  lifj  Ixyond 
the   grave   .s   hidden    from    all    peoples,    but    rel  '  ous   am 

3r  ''[f    ^r'"\'r  ''"M  '^'^^  amon;;  dUTer  nt 

S  the  chili  f^*"'''  '''^^'>''  ^'^"^  ""^'^'^  that 
nope,     the    chdd     of    heaven,     points    everv     mortal     with 

rot"'owr'  ^"-''^  "'"""  ''''^'^■'  '^^'h'tcvcr  m  V 
t)e    our    own    convictions,     we    must    admire    those    who 

f^sIels'faTh"""^  ,'"'^  ""^'^  "^^>-  '>^'  -  -^  opinion    V 
ix)sstss  faith  enough  to  remove  mountains. 


I!;      ' 


(.).\!    MAM    I'MiMF.    HUM. 


CllAriKK     LII 


C)M    MAN!    PADMi:    IirM 


'  xl 


\()\V 

l)all' 
and 
is  tlu 
is   a 
nuiii 


troublesome 

I'ViTv    form 

I)un;4-(-'ha]'it' 

midst  of  whii  h 

<malU-r   iKailde-r.   n.ntainin.i^   in    a   hollow   (Impression    a 

vtone   like    the  cKft   hoof  of   a   wild    vak.     Wlun   the 


l)ii;i   s   the   la>t    very   steep  zi.^/.at,'   in    thc_ 
•noi,.L;   sharp   or   mund    irrey    boaldeis    ot 

a   eone   of    lilorks   witli   stei)s   in   it. 
,  ..me  of  a  round  wall  of  stone,  in  the 


faithful  pili^rim  i)asses  this  spot,  he  takes  this  stone,  strikes 
it  against  the  bottom  of  the-  hollow,  and  turns  it  once  round 
like'a  i)estle.  Conseciuentlv  the  hollow  is  being  constantly 
(lee[)ened,  and  one  day  it  will  be  lowered  rij^ht  throu^di  the 

block.  .  , 

We  mount  up  a  rid.tjc  with  brooks  ilowm.i:];  on  both 
■^idc-^.  On  cverv  rock,  which  has  a  top  at  all  level,  small 
stones  are  \n\vA  up,  and  many  of  these  pyramidal  hea])s 
are  packed  so  closelv  that  there  is  no  room  for  another 
stone.  Thanks  to  these  cairns  the  pil-rim  can  Imd  his 
way  in  snowstorm  and  fojj,  though  with(.ut  them  he  could 
not  easilv  find  it  in  sunshine. 

.\t  length  we  see  before  us  a  gigantic  boulder,  its 
cubical  cciiUents  amounting  perhaps  to  7000  or  10,000 
cubic  feet;  it  stands  like  an  enormous  milestone  on  the 
saddle  of  Dolmada,  which  attains  the  tremendous  height 
n\  iS.;()()  feet.  On  the  top  of  the  block  smaller  st.mcs 
are  i)ile<l  up  into  a  pyramid  supporting  a  ptole.  and  trom  it.s 
rnd  cords  decorated  'with  rags  and  streamers  are  stretched 
to  o!b.er  !>oles  fixed,  in  the  ground.  Horns  and  Ixjnes, 
chiellv  shoulder-blades  of  sheej),  are  here  deposited  in  large 


,c.    11 


en  \r.  ;  II 


OM    MAXI    PADME    HUM 


20I 


•  li'intitkN-uifts  ..f  hoir.ai^r  f.  [hv  i-ass.  which  is  sui)p<)<nl 
to  mark  the  halfwav  point  of  the  pilKrima^e.  When  tlu- 
nil-rim  arrives  here,  he  smears  a  Lit  of  laitter  on  the  side 
(,f  "the  stone,  iilucks  out  a  loek  of  liis  own  hair  and  i)histers 
it  into  the  butter.  Tims  he  lias  offered  up  some  of  him>ell 
;.nd  some  of  his  l)elon<;in^'s.  Omseciuently  the  >tone 
iv^eml)les  a  huf^e  wif^-bloek,  from  whieh  black  locks  ot 
hiir  tlutter  in  the  wind.  In  time  it  would  be  comi)letely 
e.A-ered  with  Tibetan  hair,  were  it  not  that  the  l<)cks 
,.cca>ionallv  fall  off  and  are  blown  away  •'>',-''',?", 
T-rth  are'  stuck  in  all  the  chinks  of  the  Dohna  l)lock, 
forming  wliole  rosaries  of  human  teeth.  If  you  have  a 
l,„)se  tooth,  dedicate  it  to  the  spirits  of  the  pass.  I  serin^' 
unfortunately  was  to()tliless,  or  he  wcjuld  gladly  have  con- 
formec'  to  this  regulation.  .,     .      ,  , 

Ilfaps  of  rags  lie  all  around,  for  the  pilgrim  has  always 
a  -pare  .shre<l  to  hang  on  a  string  or  lay  at  the  foot  of  the 
block.  Hut  he  not  only  gives,  but  also  takes.  Our  old 
man  took  a  rag  from  the  heap  and  had  a  hirge  fiuantuy  ot 
such  relics  round  his  neck,  for  he  had  taken  one  from  every 

cairn.  .      ,r   •  •  -i  i 

The  view  is  grand,  though  Kailas  itself  is  not  visil)le. 
But  one  can  see  the  sharp  black  ri.ige  lying  (luite  .  lose  (m 
the  south  side  with  a  mantle  of  snow  and  a  hanging  glacier, 
its  blue  margin  vut  off  perpendicularly  at  the  small  moraine 
lake  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  pass. 

While  I  s;it  at  the  foot  of  the  block,  making  observa- 
tions and  drawing  the  panorama,  a  lama  came  strolling  up 
leaning  on  his  stick.  He  carried  a  book,  a  drum,  a  don  he, 
and  a  bell,  and  likewise  a  .sickly-looking  child  in  a  basket 
on  his  back.  The  parents,  nomads  in  the  vallev  below- 
had  given  him  tsamha  for  two  days  to  carry  the  child  round 
the  mountain,  whcrebv  it  would  recover  its  health.  Many 
pilgrims  gain  their  livelihood  by  such  services,  and  some 
make  the  pilgrimage  onlv  for  the  benefit  of  others.  1  he 
lama  with  the  child  complained  that  he  had  only  made  the 
circuit  of  the  mountain  three  times,  and  did  not  jjossess 
money   enough    to    go   round    thirteen    times.     I    gave    him 

alms.  ,   ^ 

Then  he  sat  down  on   llic-  pass,  turneu  n 


f 


h. 


!  \' 


202 


TR/>NS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


direction  where  the  summit  of  Kang-rinpochc  was  hidden, 
placed  his  hands  together,  and  chanted  an  interminable 
succession  of  prayers.  After  this  he  went  up  to  the  block 
and  laid  his  forehead  on  the  ground  —  how  many  times  I  do 
not  know,  but  he  was  still  at  it  when  we  descended  among 
lx)ulders  to  the  tiny  round  lake  Tso-kavala.  Wc  followed 
its  northern  shore,  and  our  old  friend  told  me  that  the  ice 
never  breaks  up. 

Hut  time  slips  away  and  we  must  hasten  on.  Wc  walk, 
slide,  and  scramble  down  steep  slopes  where  it  would  be 
easy  to  tumble  down  head  over  heels.  The  (jld  man  is 
sure-footed,  and  these  slopes  are  old  acquaintances.  But 
woe  betide  him  if  he  turned  round  and  v.-cnt  in  the  reverse 
direction.  At  length  we  reach  the  main  valley,  called  in 
its  ui)per  part  Tselung,  and  in  its  lower  Lam-chyker. 
Through  the  large  valley,  which  enters  the  main  valley 
on  the  right  side,  and  is  called  Kando-s;mglam,  we  now 
look  eastwards  upon  the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  summit  of 
Kailas,  which  has  a  sharp  edge  towards  the  north-east,  and 
still  looks  like  a  crystal.  At  two  manis  erected  side  by 
side  we  pass  the  border  of  the  granite  and  the  con- 
glomerate, which  now  appears  again.  The  further  we 
proceed  the  more  numerous  are  the  boulders  of  this  kind 
of  rock,  while  those  of  granite  at  length  occur  no  more. 
We  march  south-west  and  bivouac  on  Mie  roof  of  the 
monastery  Tsumtul-pu.  All  day  long,  at  all  the  cairns 
and  all  the  resting-places,  I  have  heanJ  nothing  but  an 
endless  murmur  of  the  worils  "Om  mani  padmc  hum," 
and  now,  as  long  as  I  am  awake,  "Om  mani  padme 
hum"  sounds  in  my  ears  from  all  nooks  and  corners. 

The  temple  had  no  other  curiosity  but  a  statue  of  Duk 
Ngavang  Gyamtso,  5  feet  high,  sitting  as  at  a  writing- 
desk,  two  not  very  large  elephant's  tusks,  and  a  five- 
branchetl  chandelier  from  Lhasa.  Our  visit,  therefore,  did 
not  last  kng,  and  we  rode  dov.n  the  valley  in  which  the 
river  gradually  increased  in  size.  Here,  too,  manis  and 
chhortens  are  erected,  and  at  the  end  of  the  valley,  where 
again  numbers  of  granite  boulders  are  accumulated,  we 
see  once  more  Langak-tso  and  the  grand  Gurla  group. 

At    larchen-iabrancj  v,e  reached  the  termination  of  the 


!i..  (1 


.'; ;.     'I  nil  I  \\    Ti  N  I. 


M'  IN  \>i  1  u\   I  IK  ( ;  \K  i,r\-  1 


hi  \'.i  -    \i    (hi  -in  I. 


r 


t.'-, 


I  I 


Ln 


OM   MAM    PAUME   HUM 


203 


pilgrimage.  Here  twenty-three  tents  were  pitched,  and 
we  received  the  gi  test  attention,  were  refreshed  with 
milk  and  chang,  and  rested  two  hours.  Then  we  left  the 
ilgrim  road  to  the  right,  and  came  into  sight  of  the  fourth 
monastery,  perched  high  up  on  a  terrace  in  the  valley  below 
the  holy  peak.  A  curious  local  wind  at  the  north-west 
corner  of  Langak-tso  raised  up  clouds  of  dust  like  the 
smoke  of  a  burning  town.  A  short  while  after,  we  lay 
peacefully  among  our  men  in  the  camp  on  the  Khaleb 
moor. 

By  this  pilgrimage  round  the  holy  mountain,  which  I 
had  been  able  to  accomplish  by  an  unexpected  lucky 
chance,  I  had  gained  an  insight  into  the  religious  life  of 
the  Tibetans.  It  had  also  been,  as  it  were,  a  revisal 
of  all  the  experiences  I  had  already  collected  in  this 
connection. 

Our  knowledge  of  Til)et  is  still  defective,  and  some 
future  traveller  will  find  sulTicient  material  to  show  on  a 
map  of  the  whole  Lamaistic  world  all  the  great  pilgrim 
routes  to  innumerable  sanctuaries.  On  such  a  map  numerous 
roads  would  converge,  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  to 
Da  Kuren,  the  temple  of  Maidari  in  Urga.  Still  closer 
would  the  rays  from  every  inhabited  spot  of  the  immen.se 
territory  of  Lamai.sm  run  together  to  their  chief  focus, 
Lhasa.  Somewhat  less  thickly  they  would  unite  at 
Tashi-lunpo.  Innumerable  winding  roads  and  paths 
would  start  from  the  farthest  border  countries  of  Tilx?t,  all 
tending  towards  the  holy  Kailas.  We  know  that  they 
exist,  and  no  great  imagination  is  required  to  conceive 
how  they  would  look  on  a  map.  But  it  is  with  the  routes 
of  pilgrims  just  as  with  the  flight  of  the  wild-geese:  we 
know  nothing  of  their  precise  course.  Besides,  among 
the  principal  foci  are  scattered  a  numlx;r  of  smaller 
centres  whence  radii  diverge  to  a  sanctuary,  a  lake,  or  a 
spring,  and  from  the  heart  of  all  these  wind-roses  peals  out 
a  cry  to  the  faithful,  similar  to  the  exhortation  of  Isaiah: 
"Look  upon  Zion,  the  city  of  our  solemnities:  thine  eyes 
shall  see  Jerusalem"  (Isa.  xxxiii.  20). 

In  the  ears  of  the  Tibetan  -another  saving  rings^  the 
mystical  formula  "Om  mani  padme  hum,"  not  only  on  his 


204 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


'    f'l 


I 


SI 


wanderings   to   the   goal   nl   his   pilf^Timagc,   1)Ut   throughout 
his    life.     Concerning    this    Waddell    makes,    among    others, 
the    following    remarks:    "Om-mani    i)a(l-me    Hum,    which 
literallv  means  '()»/.'     The  Jewel  in  the  lotus  I'     I  f  I'tni !   -is 
addressed    to   the    Bodhisat    Tadmaidni,    who   is   represented 
like    Ikiddha    as    seated    or    >tanding    within    a    lotus  llower. 
He     is     the     patron-god    of     Tiljet    and     the    controller    of 
metempsychosis.     And     no     wonder     tliis     formula     is     so 
popular  and  constantly  rei)eated   hy  lx)th   Lamas  and    laity, 
for    its    mere    utterance    is    believed    to    .stop    the    cycle    t>f 
re  l)irlhs    and    to    convey    the    reciter    directly    to    paradi.se. 
Thus    it    is    .stated    in    the    Mani  kah-hum    with    extravagant 
rhai)s()dy  that  this  formula  'is  the  es.scnce  of  all   happiness, 
prosperi'tv,    and    knowledge,    and    the    great    mc:ins   of    cle- 
li'-erance",'    for    tlie    Om    closes    re-lnrdi    amongst   the   gods, 
via  among  the  Tilrns,  iii  as  a  man,  pud  as  a  beast,  mc  as 
a  Tantalus,   and    Hfint    as   an   inhabitant  of    hell.     And    in 
keeping  with   this  view  each  of  the.se   si.x  syllables  is  given 
the     distinctive     colour     of     these     si.x     .states     of     re-birth, 
namely.   0>»,  the  godly  li'liitc;    ma,  the  Titanic  blue;    ni,  the 
human    VwV.n.',-    pad,    the    animal    ,(;m'»  ,•    mc,    the  'Tantalic' 
nd;  an.i  Hum,  the  hellish  black''  (The  Buddhism  0}  Tibet, 

{)p.   148-9). 

Koppen     and     Griinwcdcl     translate     the     four     words: 
"(),  Jewel  in  the  lotus-flower,  Amen." 

Wherever  one  turns  in  Tibet,  he  sees  the  six  sacrefl 
ch;.racters  engraved  or  chiselled  out,  and  hears  them 
rei)eated  everywhere.  They  are  found  in  evt-ry  temple  in 
hundreds  of  thou.-ands  of  copies,  nay,  in  mi'lions,  for  in 
tlie  great  prayer  mills  they  arc  stamped  in  fine  letters  on 
thin  pa])er.  On  the  monastery  roofs,  on  the  r(K)fs  of 
private  houses,  and  on  the  black  tents,  they  are  inscribed 
on  the  lluttering  streamers.  On  all  the  roads  we  ride 
dailv  past  wall-like  stone  cists  covered  with  slabs,  on  which 
the  formula  'Om  mani  padmc  hum"  is  carved.  Seldom 
does  the  most  lonely  path  lead  up  to  a  pass  where  no 
cairn  is  erected  to  remind  the  wanderer  of  his  dependence 
all  his  life  long  on  the  inllucnce  of  good  and  bad  jspirits. 
.\nd  on  the  top  of  every  such  Uialu  (jr  liiad.u'  is  fixed  a 
pole   or   a    stick   with   streamers,   every   one   proclaiming   in 


I    ' 


Ill 


OM    MAM    I'ADML    IILM 


l)laik  IrttiTs  the  eternal  truth.  At  j)r()jectinfi  rotks 
iul)it'al  (hhortrns  or  Ihatos  staiid  beside  the  road  in  red  and 
white.  On  the  .Mcles  of  j^'ranite  rocks  polished  >mooth  hy 
wind  and  weather  fif^ures  of  Hudilha  are  fre<|Uently  eut, 
and  below  them,  as  well  as  on  fallen  boulders,  ean  be  read 
in  gigantic  characters  "()m  niani  padme  hum."  On  the 
piers  between  which  chain  bridges  arc  stretche<l  over  the 
'r>angp<)  (jr  other  rivers,  heaps  of  stones  are  jiiled  uj),  and 
on  all  these  innumerable  votive  cairns  lie  yak  skulls  and 
crania  of  wild  sheej)  and  anteloi)es.  Into  the  horns  and 
the  bleached  frontal  Ijones  of  the  yak  the  sacred  formula  is 
(Ut,  and  the  incised  characters  are  fined  in  with  red  or  some 
other  holy  colour.  We  find  them  again  in  innumerable 
c(>i)ies  and  in  many  forms,  especially  on  the  high  roads 
which  lead  to  temples  and  ])ilgrims'  resorts,  as  well  as  at 
all  places  where  there  is  danger,  as  on  mountain  i)asses 
and  river  fords.  And  even  the  ferry  boats  of  hide  are 
chcorated  with  bles.sed  streamers. 

In  every  caravan  one  man  at  least,  and  usually  several, 
has  a  prayer  mill  in  his  hand.  This  is  rotated  by  means 
of  a  weight  round  the  axle  of  the  handle,  and  is  .stulTed 
full  of  jHiper  strips  bearing  the  hcjly  formula  in  many 
thousiinds  of  impressions.  All  day  long,  whatever  the 
duration  of  the  journey,  the  believer  turns  his  prayer  mill 
and  babbles  in  chanting  tones  'Om  mani  jjaclme  hum." 
The  militia  who  are  called  out  to  catch  a  rol)ber  band  have 
on  their  ride  more  confidence  in  their  prayer  mills  than  in 
their  guns  and  sidjres,  and,  siid  to  say,  there  are  some 
even  among  the  robbers  who  rattle  c)tT  their  Om  and  Hum 
in  order  to  make  their  escape.  Among  the  escorts  which 
accompanied  me  on  various  occasions  there  were  always 
one  or  two  horsemen  armed  with  a  mani  machine.  Onv 
always  .sees  this  convenient  praying  instrument  in  the 
hands  of  the  people  one  meets.  The  herdsman  murmurs 
the  si.x  syllables  beside  his  herd,  his  wife  when  milking 
the  sheep,  the  merchant  as  he  gcu's  to  market,  the  hunter 
as  he  .stalks  the  wild  yak  on  untrodden  paths,  the  nomad 
when  he  sets  out  to  move  his  tent  to  another  pasture,  the 
artizan  as  he  bends  over  his  work.  With  these  worfls  the 
Tibetan   begins  his  day,  and  with  them  on  his  tongue  he 


. 


It)     ' 


!    I 


I, 


206 


TRAXS  HIMALAYA 


CHAP.   1. 1 1 


lies  down  to  rest.  Tlu'  Om  and  Hum  arc  not  only  the 
Alpha  and  Omcj^a  of  the  day,  but  of  his  whole  life. 

The  mystic  words  rang  constantly  in  my  cars.  I  heard 
them  when  the  sun  ro>t  and  when  I  blew  out  my  light, 
and  I  did  not  escape  tiiem  even  in  the  wilderness,  for  my 
own  men  murmured  "Om  mani  padme  hum."  They 
belong  to  Tibet,  these  words;  they  are  in.separable  from  it: 
I  cannot  imagine  the  snow-cappecl  mountains  and  the  blue 
lakes  without  them.  They  are  as  do.sely  connected  with 
this  country  as  buzzing  with  the  bee-hive,  as  the  flutter  of 
.streamers  with  the  pass,  as  the  ceaseless  west  wind  with 
its  howling. 

The  life  of  the  Tibetan  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  is 
interwoven  with  a  multitude  of  religious  precepts  and 
cu.stoms.  It  is  his  duty  to  contribute  his  mite  to  the 
maintenance  of  the  monasteries  and  to  the  Peter's  j)ence 
of  the  temples.  When  he  passes  a  votive  cairn  he  adds  a 
stone  to  the  pile  as  an  olTering;  when  he  rides  by  a  mani, 
he  never  forgets  to  guide  his  steed  to  the  left  of  it;  when 
he  sees  a  holy  mountain,  he  never  omits  to  lay  his  forehead 
on  the  ground  in  homage;  in  all  important  undertakings 
he  must,  for  the  sake  of  his  eternal  salvation,  seek  the 
advice  of  monks  learnetl  in  the  law;  when  a  mendicant 
lama  comes  to  his  door  he  never  refu.ses  to  give  him  a 
handful  of  Isiimba  or  a  lump  of  butter;  when  he  makes  the 
round  of  the  temple  halls,  he  adds  his  contribution  to  the 
collection  in  the  votive  bowls;  and  when  he  saddles  his 
horse  or  loads  a  yak,  he  again  hums  the  everlasting  "Om 
mani  padme  hum." 

More  frequently  than  an  Ave  Maria  or  a  Paternoster 
in  the  Catholic  world,  "Om  mani  padme  hum"  forms  an 
accompaniment  to  the  life  and  wanderings  of  humanity 
ovc-  half  Asia.  The  boundless  vista  opened  out  by  the 
six  holy  syllables  is  thus  expressed  by  Edwin  Arnold  in 
the  concluding  lines  of  his  poem.  The  Light  of  Asia: 

The  dew  is  on  the  lotus.     Rise,  Great  Sun ! 
And  lift  my  leaf  and  mix  me  with  the  wave. 
Om  mani  padme  hum,  the  sunrise  comes. 
The  dewdrop  slips  into  the  shining  sea. 


2;ii.     'I'm.    I'm  1(1  Ml  \    H'''\i  Mmh. 


it 


277.      Mn    Hum    MS    ill!     |^■l.l■^ 


^i| 


27N         ;    \li\KI    WoMKS-. 


.•'V 


I 


'H 


I 


t.i, 


:  I-, 


i      I 


CHAPTKR    LIII 


THF,   DISCOVERY   Ol    TIIK   SOIRCE   OF   TIIF.   INDUS 


Immi.diatki.y  on  my  arrival  in  Khakh  I  told  tlu-  old  gova, 
who  had  the  hopi-k-ss  and  thankless  task  of  watching  my 
prori'i'dinj^s,  that  I  now  intended  to  lake  the  n  ad  past 
Sinf^i-kabab,  or  the  source  of  the  Indus. 

"If  you  go  thither,  Bombo,"  he  answered,  "I  shall 
at  once  send  a  courier  to  the  Garpuns,  the  two  chiefs  in 
Gartok." 

"I  do  not  think  that  the  Garpuns  will  have  any 
objection  to  my  taking  a  more  northerly  route." 

"Oh  yes,  the  (larpuns  received  orders  from  Lhasa  five 
days  ago  to  watch  carefully  that  you  followed  no  other 
way  but  the  great  high-road  to  (lartok.  The  (]ar|)uns 
straightway  sent  couriers  to  twelve  dilTerent  ])laces  — 
Parka,  Mis.scr,  Purang,  Singtcxl,  and  others  —  to  make  it 
kn(nvn  that  you  were  not  {x-rmitted  to  travel  on  byroads. 
If  this  letter  had  not  reached  me,  I  would  willingly  have 
let  vou  march  northwards,  but  now  I  dare  not  for  mv  own 
s;ike."  7 

"What  would  you  do  if  I  quietly  disappeared  one 
night '■'  I  can  buy  yak?  in  Tarchen,  and  then  I  shall  not 
be  dependent  on  those  I  have  from  you." 

"Yes,  of  course.  A  man  lives  in  Tarchen  who  has 
sixty  yaks,  and  will  sell  them  as  soon  as  he  sees  silver 
money.  Hut  I  shall  at  once  send  word  to  the  Garj)uns, 
and  they  will  send  men  after  you  and  force  you  to  come 
back.  To  buy  yaks  would  therefore  be  useless  waste  of 
money.  Iluwcui,  if  you  like  to  let  i;  •.■  main  part  of 
your  caravan   follow   the  high-road,   arid   make   yourself  an 

307 


2oH 


TRANS  IIIMAI.WA 


( II  \i- 


,.vurM..n    uf    ;i    .miii,K-    of    -l.iv.    nurthwanU   to   the    Sm.ui- 
ki.lul.     .in.l    th.n    join    vour    .,ir,i\,in    .i-ain,    I    uill    |.ul    no 
ol.stadc.   in    v.ur   w.iv.      lUil    >ou   .lo   it    at    y.^ur   own    ri^k 
and    you    uill    m.ist    (ntainly    In-    laii-lit    IhIoh-    you    rtaili 
the  ^.)ur^^•  of  ttu    Imlu-." 

I    Nva.   as   nuidi   a^tonishcl    a.  <li  li^'htt  .1    l.y    thi.   ^u-LIm 

(han^c    in     tlu'    altilu.lc    of    the    -ova.    aiul     airaiv^ni     uUli 

kolnrt     that     iu-    should     Lad     liir     main     .aia\an     in     wry 

short  ilav's  manhi>  to  (lartok.  while   1   made  as  rapidly  as 

I.)ssihlc 'for  tin-  suunr  of  tin-   Indus.     1   took  only  as    many 

tilings    as    a    small    liatli.rii    trunk    would    (ontain,    and    as 

cnmiKmioMs  onlv   live   nun,  anioni;  tlum    Kal-san^^  as   mtcT^ 

prctiT   and    Adul    as   cook,    with    our   own    six    animals   and 

Ihnr   d-.^s,    onr    of    whi.  h.    a    new    pun  hasc.    ran    away    on 

thf  first  day.     1    had    Kol.rrt's  small   tent,   and   our  arsenal 

consisted    of    two    -uns    and    a    revolver,    for    rohluTs    were 

Slid   to  nuda-   the  tountrv   vi-rv   un--,ife.      I   <ould   not    tmd   a 

irui.lc    but   on   th.'   wav   t..   Diri  l-u,   where   I   eiuamped   onre 

more     I    came    ain.ss    an    old    man    from    Tok  jalun.i,',    wiio 

wished    to    make    the    round    of    Kailas    thirteen    times,    ari( 

jrave  me  mu(  h   v.duaMe  inforiuation.     liul  no  money  could 

induce  him  to  accompany  us  t"arther. 

On  the  Sth  we  conlinutd  our  way  through  the  valley  that 
runs    north  northeastwards    from    Diri  lai    to    the    Tselila. 
The   stream,   divided    int(.   m.my   arms,   was  covered    in   the 
ni<'ht  hy  a  thin  coalin;^  of  iie,  smooth  as  i^lass,  where  the 
water    had    run    off,    but    it    di.sapi)eared    when    day    came. 
The   valley   is   broad,   and    the   ro.id    showed    trace,  ot    con 
siderable  'traffic,    thouj^h    we    did    not    meet    a    soul.       1  he 
marmots    whistled    in    front    of    their    holes;     the    summer 
would  soon  be  over  for  them.     KanK-nnp"che  can   l)e  seen 
from  many  places,  and   here   pil.i^rims  from  the  north   have 
piled     ui)' cairns.     (Granite     predominates    everywhere,     but 
crystalline    schists  occur   here   and    there.     We    followed    the 
fresh     tracks    of    three     horsemen.     The     gradient     became 
steeper    and     the     scenery    assumed     more     of    an     alijmc 
character.     We   mounted   up  amont;  hui^e  C(tnes  of  detritus 
with    bdiblinL'   brooks  of   melted    snow   to    the    pass,    which 
lay  at  a  height  of  18.405  f^'^'t-     It^  l)lateau  is  smguiariy  Hat. 
On  its  northern  side  camp  Xo.  234  was  pitched. 


Itll 


■I  UK  sorKcr.  ov   iiik  indus 


:or) 


In  till-  cvcnini;  Rabsant;  rcpK)rtf(|  that  our  fucl- 
patlicnrs  liad  luard  \vliistlr>,  aricl  that  thoc  si),'nals  had 
Ikih  an-iuiTcd  from  the  othi-r  ^idc.  The  men  l)clirvc'd 
thai  thi  re  wvrv  rulilKTs  htrc,  and  i\'\'\  not  dart-  to  sit 
oul>id(  1)V  the  fire  Ifst  they  should  Ik-  ^jood  marks  for  sliots 
out  of  an  amhush.  I  (juictid  thrni  with  thi"  assuranrt- 
thai  no  rolihiT  would  Miitun-  to  attack  a  Kuropcan,  but 
^'avi-  ordtTs  to  thi-  wati  hnian  to  ktrp  an  ivi'  on  our 
animals. 

I'hf  ni,t,'ht  passi-d  (|ui(tly  and  the  minimum  tcmprra- 
turc  went  down  to  i6.j'';  autumn  was  come  a).;ain  into 
<lrrary  lilK't.  I  h:id  -upiioxcd  that  the  'I'stti  la  was  the 
pass  on  the  main  (li\idf.  but  we  had  not  K"'"''  f'l""  when  we 
saw  its  brook,  which  llowcd  northwards,  make  a  iK'iid  to 
the  wiM,  and  disceml  throu^'h  a  welldetined  valli-y  to 
the  hunuhuiL,'.  It  tluri'fore  belon,t;s  to  the  catchment 
ba^in  of  tlie  Sutlej  and  not  to  the  Indus,  and  the  Tseti  la 
is  a  |las■^  of  secondary  order.  Hut  we  soon  reached  the 
adual  pass,  an  e.\trenuly  tlat  threshold.  Here  lies  a  small 
muddy  lake  draimd  t)y  a  brook  issuing  from  its  eastern 
side,  whi(  h  wi'  followid  all  day.  This  pass  is  the  Tseti- 
laihen  la,  and  it  is  a  water  partini,'  U'twei'n  the  Sutlej  and 
tin-  Iivl'is.  Its  111  i'^'ht  is  k'-s  tlian  that  of  the  Tseti  la,  for 
it  is  only  17.0,1.1  feet;  it  lies  on  the  main  chain  of  the  Trans- 
Ilimalaya.  Kailas,  thiTefore,  lies  a  ^ood  day's  journey 
south  of  the  watershed  of  the  two  rivers,  and  Ijelongs 
entirely  to  the  basin  of  tlie  Sutlej. 

From  the  lake  we  follow  the  little  afilucnt  of  the  Indus 
north',  ards.  The  ground  is  marshy  and  rough.  Here 
and  tlure  arc  seen  three  hearthstones.  .\  dead  horse  lies 
amoni;  the  lu.xuriant  <^rd<->.  It  is  sinj^'ular  that  no  nomads 
are  encamped  here.  At  lenj^nh  we  see  at  a  far  distance 
quite  down  in  the  valley  men  going  downstream  with 
large  flocks  of  shee[).  Tundup  Sonam  and  Ishc  arc  sent  after 
them,  and  by  degrees  the  rest  of  us  come  up  with  the 
party.  They  arc  nomads  from  Gertse,  who  have  taken 
salt  to  Gyanima  and  a'-e  now  transporting  barley  on  their 
500  sheep.  All  the  valley  is  dotted  over  with  white 
sheej),  which  trip  along  actively,  [clucking  the  grass  as 
they   go.     In    front    of   us   rises   a   steep   purple    mountain 

VOL.  ri  p 


I     I 


<•:   i 


''I- 


210 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP- 


1.1 


chain,  and  along  the  flank  tur:  <1  towards  us  the  Indus  is 
said  to  flow.  We  joined  the  men  of  the  sheep  caravan 
and  camped  together  ith  them.  There  were  five  of 
them,  all  armed  with  guns,  and  they  said  that  the  district 
was  frequently  haunted  by  robbers,  who  at  times  seemed 
to  vanish  altogether,  and  then  suddenly  came  down  like  a 
whirlwind,  and  no  one  knew  whence  they  came. 

Our  camping-ground  on  the  bank  of  the  Indus  (i 6,66,^ 
feet)  is  called  Singi-buk.  Eastwards  the  valley  is  broad 
and  open,  but  the  Indus  itself  is  here  an  insignificant 
stream.  I  wa.  therefore  not  astonished  when  I  heard  that 
it  was  onlv  c  short  day's  journey  to  the  source,  which,  I 
was  told,  does  not  proceed  from  snow  or  a  glaoer,  but 
springs  up  out  of  the  ground.  The  men  called  the  river 
the  Singi-tsangjK),  or  Singi-kamba,  and  the  source  itself 
Singi-kabab,  though  we  afterwards  heard  the  word  pro- 
nounced Scnge  more  freciuently  than  Singi. 

It  turned  out  that  one  of  the  five  men  knew  all  about 
us.  He  was  a  brother  of  the  Lobsang  Tsering  on  Uie 
Dungtse-tso  who  had  sold  us  three  yaks  the  winter  before 
(see  Chapter  XV.).  It  was  a  singular  chance  that  we 
should  fall  in  with  him.  He  said  he  had  heard  how  well 
we  had  treated  his  brother,  and  offered  us  his  services  —  for 
a  good  reward,  of  course.  As  he  had  travelled  several 
times  through  this  region,  quite  unknown  to  Europeans, 
and  was  acfiuainted  with  all  the  passes,  roads,  and  valleys, 
I  thought  he  would  be  very  valuable  to  me,  and  I  jjroposed 
to  give  him  7  rupees  a  day,  that  is  about  half  a  month's 
pay  of  one  of  my  Ladakis.  Of  course  he  accepted  the  terms 
at  once  and  soon  became  our  intimate  friend. 

But  these  busin  ss  matters  were  not  yet  settled.  The 
man  had  a  quantity  of  sheep  and  barley.  He  consented 
to  let  us  eight  sheep  on  hire,  and  sell  us  their  loads,  which 
would  last  our  horses  for  a  week.  He  was  to  receive  a 
rupee  for  the  hire  of  each  sheep,  which  was  high,  for  a 
sheep  is  worth  only  2  to  3  rupees.  The  old  man  would 
therefore  receive  18  rupees  every  evening  as  long  as  he 
was  with  us;  but  it  was  cheap  after  all,  for  the  discovery 
of  the  ^ourri-  of  the  Indus  was  involved. 

The   large   sheep-caravan   had   already  started  on   Sep- 


r'l 


! 


?«k;':.;^U "j;-- -  'r:trr:-'  i-->;^'^; 


i^^i^^SMISSHH 

mH^^^i 

^w^l^^sH 

^^^H 

^^  m  I  ~4^^^^^^^^^^l 

^VPRh 

6 


^^M^^iM^ 


bi  f 


h    ' 


i    I 


I . 


.«,  1 


I     \ 


U 


I 


:,  If' 


^^■ 


I  I 


11 


LIU 


THE   SOURCE   OF   THE   INDUS 


211 


tcmbcr  lo,  when  wo,  with  our  new  guide,  whose  own  tsamba 
was  carried  on  a  ninth  sheeo,  followed   m  its  track.     After 
an  hour's  march  we  crossed   a  tributary,  the  Lungdcp-chu 
which  comes  from   a  valley  in   the  south-east,  with  fiattish 
mountains  in  the  background. 

A  little  farther  up  the  Singi-kamba  expands  into  a  basin 
containing  an  abundance  of  medium-sized  fish.  As  we 
passed,  the  fish  were  darting  upstream  in  compact  shoals, 
and  passed  a  very  shallow  place  with  slight  swirls.  Here 
Rabsang  attacked  them,  but  all  his  catch  was  only  one 
small  miserable  fish.  Then  wc  threw  up  a  dam  by  the 
bank,  with  an  opening  on  one  side,  and  the  men  went  into 
the  water  and  drove  in  the  f\sh  with  shouts  and  splashing 
Then  the  entrance  was  built  up.  After  wc  had  repeated 
this  diversion  three  times,  we  had  procured  thirty-seven 
fine  f^sh,  and  I  was  eager  for  my  dinner,  which  I  usually 
looked  forward  to  with  some  loathing,  for  the  hard  dried 
mutton  had  become  thoroughly  distasteful  to  me.  Our  old 
man,  who  sat  and  watched  us,  thought  that  we  had  taken 
k-ave  of  our  senses.  Farther  up,  the  fish  were  so  crowded 
in  ?.  quiet  pool  that  they  made  the  water  seem  almost  black 
with  their  dark  backs.  i    i     r 

We  rode  up  the  valley,  leaving  on  o"r  right  a  red,  ioat- 
shaped    mountain    called     Lungdep-ningri.     Opposite,     on 
the   northern  side   of   the  valley,  were   seen   two  fine  Ovis 
Ammon  sheep  feeding  on  a  conical  elevation.    They  bore 
splendid    horns,    and    carried    their    heads    royally.     They 
so(>n    perceived    us,   and   made   slowly   up   the   slope.     But 
they  paifl  too  much  attention  to  our  movements,  and  did 
not  notice  that  Tundup  Sonam,  with  his  gun  on  his  back, 
was  making  a  detour  to  stalk  them  from  the  other  side  of 
the  hill     After  a  while  we  heard  a  shot,  and  a  good  hour 
later,  when  the  camp  was  pitched,  Tundup  came  back  laden 
with  as  much  of  the  flesh  of  his  victim  as  he  could  carry. 
Thus  we  obtained  a  fresh  addition  to  ou-     omewhat  scanty 
rations,  and  Tundup's  exploit  enhanced  the  glory  of  this 
memorable  dav.     In  the  evening  he  went  ofT  again  to  fetch 
more  meat,  and  he  brought  me  the  head  of  the  wild  sheep, 
v.'-ich  I  wished  to  nrcserve  as  a  memento  of  the  day  at  the 
source  of  the  Indus. 


212 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


L^:    I 


i  \ 


'•1 : 


li 


The  ground  rises  e.xcee(lin<^Iy  slowly.  Singi-ylira  is  a 
rugged  cliff  to  the  north,  with  a  large  hole  through  its 
summit.  Singi-chava  is  the  name  of  a  commanding  emi- 
nence to  the  south.  Then  we  wade  tlirough  the  outtlow 
of  the  Munjam  valley  running  in  from  the  south-east. 
Above  this  the  Indus  is  only  a  tiny  brook,  and  part  of  its 
water  comes  from  a  valley  in  tlie  south  ea^t,  the  Bokar. 
A  little  later  wc  camp  at  the  aperture  of  the  spring,  which 
is  so  well  concealed  that  it  might  easily  Ix.-  overlooked 
without    a   guide. 

From  the  mountains  on  the  northern  side  a  flattish 
cone  of  detritus,  or,  more  correctly,  a  slope  bestrewn  with 
rubbish,  descends  to  the  level,  oi)en  valley.  At  its  foot 
projects  a  slab  of  white  rock  with  an  almost  horizontal 
bedding,  underneath  which  several  small  springs  well  uj) 
out  of  the  ground,  forming  weedy  ponds  and  the  sourcj 
stream,  which  we  had  traced  upwards,  and  which  is  the 
first  and  uppermost  of  the  heaflwaters  of  the  mighty  Indus. 
The  four  largest  springs,  where  they  issued  from  the 
ground,  had  temperatures  of  48.6°,  49.1°,  49-^>°.  and  50.4° 
respectively.  They  arc  said  to  emit  the  same  ([uantity  ()f 
water  in  winter  and  summer,  but  a  little  more  after  rainy 
seasons.  Up  on  the  slab  of  rock  stand  three  tall  cairns 
and  a  small  cubical  lltato  containing  votive  pyramids  of  clay. 
And  below  the  Ihato  is  a  ([uadrangular  >«</»/,  with  hundreds 
of  red  flagstones,  some  covered  with  fine  close  inscrii)tians, 
some  bearing  a  single  character  20  inches  high.  On  two 
the  wheel  of  life  was  incised,  and  on  another  a  divine 
image,  which  I  carried  off  as  a  souvenir  of  the  source  of 
the   Indus. 

Our  guide  said  that  the  source  Singi-kabab  was 
reverenced  because  of  its  divine  origin.  When  travellers 
reached  this  place  or  any  other  part  of  the  upper  Indus, 
they  scooped  up  water  with  their  hands,  drank  of  it,  and 
sprinkled  their  faces  anil  heads  wit',  it. 

Through  the  investigations  made  by  Montgomerie's 
pundits  in  the  year  1867  it  was  known  that  the  eastern 
arm  of  the  Indus  is  the  actual  headwater,  and  I  had  after- 
wards an  opportunity  of  proving  by  nieabUrernciil  that  the 
western,    Gartok,    stream    is   considerably   smaller.     But   no 


i-h 


>J 


^V- 


T 


I". 


''I 


|!       \ 


un 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  IXDUS 


213 


pundit  had  succtrdod  in  penetrating  to  the  source,  and 
the  one  who  had  advanced  nearest  to  it,  namely,  to  a  point 
30  miles  from  it,  had  been  attacked  by  robbers  and 
forced  to  turn  back.  Conse(|UentIy,  until  our  time  the 
erroneous  o[)inion  jja-vailed  that  the  Indus  had  its  source 
on  the  north  Hank  of  Kailas,  and,  thanks  to  those  admirable 
robbers,  the  discovery  of  the  Indus  source  was  reserved 
for   me   and   my   five    Ladakis. 

We  passed  a  memoraljle  evening  and  a  memorable 
night  at  this  imjxirtant  geograph'cal  s|K)t,  situated  16,946 
feet  alcove  sea-level.  Here  I  stood  and  saw  the  Indus 
emerge  from  the  lap  of  the  earth.  Here  I  stood  and  saw 
this  unpretenti(jus  brook  wind  down  the  valley,  and  I 
thought  of  all  the  changes  it  must  undergo,  before  it 
j)asses  between  rocky  clitTs,  singing  its  roaring  song  in 
ever  more  i)owerful  crescendo,  down  to  the  sea  at  Karachi, 
where  steamers  load  and  unload  their  cargoes.  I  thought 
of  its  restless  course  through  western  Tibet,  through 
Ladak  and  Haltistan,  i)ast  Skardu,  where  the  apricot  trees 
nf)d  on  its  banks,  through  Dardistan  and  Kohistan,  past 
Peshawar,  and  across  the  plains  of  the  western  Panjab, 
until  at  last  it  is  swallowed  u|)  by  the  salt  waves  of  the 
ocean,  the  Nirvana  and  the  refuge  of  all  weary  rivers. 
Here  I  stood  and  wondered  whether  the  Macedonian 
Alexander,  when  he  crossed  the  Indus  2200  years  ago, 
had  any  notion  where  its  source  lay,  and  I  revelled  in  the 
consciousness  that,  except  the  Tibetans  themselves,  no 
other  human  Ix'ing  but  myself  had  penetrated  to  this  sf)ot. 
Great  obstacles  had  been  ])laced  in  my  way,  but  Providence 
had  secured  for  me  the  triumph  of  reaching  the  actual 
sources  of  the  Brahmai)utra  and  Indus,  and  ascertaining 
the  origin  of  these  two  historical  rivers,  which,  like  the 
claws  of  a  crab,  grip  the  highest  of  all  the  mountain 
systems  of  the  world — the  Himalayas.  Their  waters  are 
l)orn  in  the  reservoirs  of  the  firmament,  and  they  roll 
down  their  floods  to  the  lowlands  to  yield  life  and  suste- 
nance to  fifty  millions  of  human  Ix'ings.  Up  here  white 
monasteries  stand  peacefully  on  their  banks,  while  in  India 
p.'igdd.T;  ,infl  moc.nuf";  are  reilertofl  in  their  w.Ttcrs;  uri 
liere  wolves,  wild  yaks,  and  wiUl  sheep  roam    about  their 


wm 


-Mr"- , 


I    • 


i'' ' 


r.:i 


f 


i     \ 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


cnAP.  Ill 


214 

vallcvs    while  down   k-low  in   India  the  eyes  of  timers  and 
leopards   shine   like   -\inun<^  coals  <.f   fire   from   the   jungles 
that     skirt     their     banks,     and     poisonous     snakes     wnggic 
throuL'h     the     dense     brushwood.     Here     in     dreary     Iibct 
lev    storms    and    cold    snowfalls    lash    their    waves,    whdc 
down    in    the    flat    country    mild    breezes    whisper    m    the 
I  Towns  of  the  palms  and  mango  trees.     I  seemed  to  listen 
here   to   the   beating   of   the    pulses   of   these   two   renowned 
rivers     to    watch    the    industry   and    rivalry  which    through 
untold     generations,  have     occupie.l     unnumbered     human 
lives    short   and   transitory   as   the   life   of   the   midge   and 
the   <'rass;    all    those    wanderers   on    the   earth   and   guests 
in   the   abodes   of   time,    who   have    been    l)orn    beside   the 
fleeting    current     of     these     rivers,     have     drunk     of    their 
waters    have  flrawn  from  them  life     ind    strength    for   their 
fields    have  lived  an<l  died  on  their  banks,  and  have  risen 
from '  the    sheltered    freedom    of    their    valleys    up    to    the 
realms  of  eternal   hope.     Not  without  pride,  but  still  with 
a    feelin"    of    humble    thankfulness,    I    stood    there,    con- 
scious   that    I    was    the    first    white    man    who  had  ever 
penetrated  to   the  sources  of  the   Indus  and  Brahmaputra. 


'I 


!i 


th 


CHAPTKk    LIV 

A  RFSOI.ITIO.V 

From  the  source  of  the  Indus  wc  travelled  on  north-east- 
wards with  our  friendly  ^'uide  to  a  locality  (ailed  Vumha- 
matsen,  which  lies  in  lat.  32°  X.  And  thence  I  lutook 
nivself  to  Gartok,  the  chief  town  of  western  Tibet  and  the 
residence  of  the  two  (iarpuns.  where  I  arrived  after  many 
adventures  on  September  26,  having  cros^eil  tiie  Trans- 
Himalaya  for  the  fifth  time  l)y  the  Jukti-la  (ig,iii  feet  hi^h). 
I  mu^t,  alas!  omit  a  description  of  this  journey  for  the 
present,  thouf^h  it  passed  for  the  most  part  thnnij^h 
unknown  country.  >Ir.  Calvert  crossed  over  the  Jukli  la 
two  years   Ix'fore. 

In  Gartok  (14,656  feet)  a  new  period  bcpan.  This  town 
is  a  turning-point  in  the  chronicles  of  my  journey.  In  the 
first  place,  I  again  came  into  contact  with  the  outer  world. 
Thakur  Jai  Chand,  the  British  commercial  agent,  handed 
me  immediately  on  my  arrival  a  thick  packet  of  letters, 
including  a  (juantity  from  my  dear  home,  and  others 
from  Lord  and  Lady  Minto  and  their  daughters,  from  Colonel 
Dunlop  Smith,  Vounghusband,  O'Connor,  Rawling,  and 
many  other  friends  in  Euiope  and  .Asia.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, was  heard  of  the  heavy  consignment  I  ex])ecte(l  from 
Simla.  Hut  .soon  afterwards  I  hcar:l  from  Dunloj)  Smith 
that  all  I  had  ordered  was  on  the  way  and  would  arrive  in 
due  cour.-^e,  and  meantime  I  had  to  wait  in  patience. 

The  Garpuns  at  once  .sent  me  pre^.Jnts  as  a  token  of 
welcome,  with  the  usual  polite  i>hrases.  They  were  of  too 
grc.'.t  irnpnrt.''.nrf'  {n  \-\^.\t  me  first  ~^  rscxt  A-iv  I  "•(■nt  to 
them.     The  elder  was  ill ;    the  youu^er,  a  gentleman   from 

ais 


wmm 


f 


I.  ''    I 


^1 ; 


3l6 


TkANS  HIMALAYA 


rnAP. 


'!  '  1 


I.h;is;i,  tliirty-fivc  years  <.f  a^'c  and  of  distinj^ii^hcfl  ai)i)car- 
[uu\\  ri'divid  nu'  m(»^l  Kmlially  in  his  sim|)k'  (lovcnimcnt 
hiiildiiiK'^.  atv'  was  so  little  aii^^ry  at  the  litterties  I  had 
recently  taken  that  he  did  not  even  ask  me  where  I  had 
been.  It  was  an  irony  of  fate  thai  a  letter  in  most  friendly 
terms  and  mo>t  lilaral  in  its  (oneessions.  which  I  now 
received  from  I.ien  Darin  by  the  hand  of  the  (larpun.  had 
not  reaclu'd  me  until  it  was  too  late.  When  Lic'n  Darin 
reieivid  my  letter  from  Raj^a-tasam,  he  immediately  sent 
off  two  Chinamen  fully  authorized  to  come  to  an  a},'reement 
with  me  aljout  the  route  1  was  to  take.  "For  I  shall  he 
f,'lad  to  know,"  .said  the  Amhan  of  Lhasa,  "that  you  are 
travellini^  by  the  road  that  suits  you."  He  was  (juite  con- 
vinced that  my  movements,  whichever  way  I  took,  would 
give  no  tausc  for  ]>oliti(al  complications.  \n(|  he  con- 
cluded with  the  words:  "Now.  I  hope  that  .lU  will  have  a 
successful  and  ])eaceful  journey,  and  I  will  pray  for  your 
health  and  i)rosptTity." 

How  I  re,L,'rette<l  now  that  I  had  not  .stayed  in  Saka, 
and  .so  much  the  more  when  the  (larpun  told  me  that  the 
two  Chinamen  had  arrive<l  with  an  escort  of  four  'rii)etans 
only  two  weeks  after  we  had  left  !  Hut  the  (iarpun  was 
frie'ndlv  dispo.sed  towards  me;  he  was  the  most  powerful 
man  in  western  Tibet,  and  could  still  tiirow  oj)en  all  doors 
for  me,  if  he  dared  and  was  willing  to  do  so. 

I  was,  indeed,  pleased  and  thankful  for  the  results 
which  I  had  already  been  able  to  .secure.  Besides  many 
other  problems  that  had  been  solved,  I  had  crossed  the 
Trans-llimalava  by  live  pa.sses,  namely,  the  Sela-la,  Chang- 
la-l'od  la,  Angden-ia,  Tseti  lachen  la,  and  Juktida,  of  which 
the  first  four  had  been  entirely  unknown.  lUit  between 
the  Angden  la  and  the  T.seti  lachen  la  I  had  been  obliged 
to  leave  a  gap  of  (juite  330  miles  in  the  exploration  of  the 
Trans-Himalava.  Of  this  region  nothing  was  known  but 
the  summits  Rydi-r  had  seen  from  his  route,  and  which  he 
and  Wood  had'  measured  by  observation.  We  al.so  pos- 
sessed some  uncertain  statements  of  Xain  Sing's  journey 
in  187.^  but  his  route  lay  to  the  north  of  the  blank  patch, 
and  this  blank  represented  an  area  of  s.soo  st|uare  miles. 
I  could  not  return  home  without  having  done  all  that  was 


Kl 


>■!■■ 


1*5 


!^^ 


?'^^>J^•>?^^!^^;^?^^ 


"^.^ms^^mmit' 


1 
1.  .'i 


p  > 


'N 


~»  r  "V" 


A    Ki;S()LLTI()N' 


217 


humanly  i)<)ssi!)lc  to  tr.ivcrx'  thr  unknown  country  by  at 
liast  onr  route.  IVciixly  tlurc  was  tin-  linr  forminj,' 
tin-  watir  h«(l  iHtwctii  tlif  Indian  Ocean  and  tlir  inland 
ilraina^^i-  i>\  tin-  >alt  lakt^  on  (iu-  TilHlan  plateau.  'I'lirre 
many  lakt-s  an<l  rivers  mi^lit  he  ixpeeted  to  txi^t.  and 
there  lay  the  lar^e  |trovinre  of  I{oni.;l)a,  of  whi(  h  so 
many  ha/y  reports  lia<l  reached  our  ears  from  it->  northern, 
eastern,  and  southern  Ixiundaries.  lUit  the  i^'natest  and 
mo.st  imjMirtant  iriestion  of  all  was:  Does  the  Xiiiichen- 
tan}4  la  run  rij^'ht  throU[,'h  'I'ihet  in  a  westerly  and  nortli- 
westerly  direction  to  the  nortii  of  the  'r>an,L,'po  and  the 
Upper  Indus?  N'o  I-iuropean  and  no  jiundit  had  iiitherto 
ventured  on  this  problem;  but  lIcHl^json,  Saunders,  and 
Atkinson  hail  many  years  before  laid  dcnvn  a  hypothetical 
ran>^'e  on  their  maps  of  Tibet.  Did  it  actually  e.xist?  Or 
wa^  a  labyrinth  of  ranf^es  hidden  under  the  white  space-,  or 
a  comparatively  flat  phitcau,  on  which  foundation  isolated 
snowy  j)eaks  and  chains  were  based?  Hypotheses  are 
aljsolutely  worthless  comijared  to  proved  facts.  Such  facts 
1  would  procure.  I  knew  that  if  I  did  not  succeed  now  in 
iK'nctratini;  into  the  country  which  on  the  latest  Kng- 
lish  ma])  of  Tibet  (i(;o6,  ^lap  i)  bears  only  the  word 
"I'ne.xplored,"  one  fine  day  another  explorer  wouM  come 
and  rolj  me  of  this  triumph.  And  this  thought  I  could  not 
endure. 

In  (iartok  my  old  friend  from  Leh,  the  rich  merchant 
Oulam  Ra/ul,  was  stayinj,'  (Illustration  272).  1  consulted 
him,  and  he  was  to  be  my  delivering,'  angel.  He  touk  a  very 
sanguine  view  of  our  jx^sition,  for  the  (iar|)un  owed  him 
7000  rupees  for  goods  c lei ivered,  and  feared  his  intluence;  he 
could  therefore  put  prc.s.surc  on  the  Viceroy  of  western  Tibet. 
He  first  tried  .stratagem,  which,  hcnvever,  ccjmpletely  failed, 
for  the  Garpun  replied  he  was  tcx)  fond  of  his  head  to 
e.x[)ose  it  to  risk  by  a,s.sisting  a  European  who  had  no  per- 
mission to  travel  alH)Ut  the  country.  Then  we  tried  gold, 
but  the  Garpun  answered  most  theatrically:  "If  this  house 
were  of  gold  and  you  otTerod  it  to  me  I  would  mA  take  it. 
If  you  travel  on  forbidden  roads  I  will  send  armed  men 
after  you  who  will  force  you  to  return  hither." 

lie   was   incorruptible,    and    he    wa^.   too   strong   for    us. 


i  i 


I 


'ii 


2l8 


TRAXS-niMALAYA 


■,  !;i  - 


Hi)\v  sorry  I  was  now  that  I  had  not  proceeded  eastwards 
whin  1  was  in  enjoyment  of  complete  freedom  at  the  source 
of  thi'  Inchis  and  in  Vumha-matsen !  Hut  no,  that  was 
impossible,  for  my  ca-h  box  was  then  not  full  enough,  I 
had  only  five  men  with  me,  and  I  could  not  have  left  the 
rest  of   my  caravan  to  their  own  devices. 

What  if  I  went  down  into  Nepal  and  came  hack  aj,'ain 
into  Tibet  by  un,t,'uarded  roads?  Xo,  that  wcjuld  not  do, 
for  snf)W  would  soon  close  the  Himalayan  passes.  And  if 
we  tried  tf)  slink  throu.gh  fo  Rudok  and  thence  make  east- 
wards? Xo.  Rudok  swarmed  with  :,pies.  And  soon 
Ciulum  Ra/.ul  learned  also  that  the  (larpun  had  sent  orders 
throughout  his  territory  to  .stop  me  in  ca.se  I  attempted  to 
travel  even  to  Ladak  by  any  other  than  the  main  high-road. 
Thus  wr  planned  this 'and  that,  and  mused  day  and 
night,  soiiK'times  in  my  tent,  ometimes  in  (julam  Razul's, 
and  wailed  for  the  consignment  from  Simla,  heard  bells 
jingle  when  couriers  came  from  the  east,  .saw  one  merchant 
after  another  return  from  the  fair  in  Lhasa,  met  the  serpiin 
or  gold  commissioner  who  came  from  Tok-jalung,  and  felt 
the  cold  of  autumn  cut  our  skins  more  sharply  as  the 
thermometer  fell  to  —  ii°. 

Then  in  lonely  hours  I  came  to  the  resolution  to  return 
to  Ladak  and  thence,  as  in  the  year  before,  penetrate  into 
Til)et  from  the  north,  traverse  the  whole  country  once 
more,  and  cross  the  blank  space.  1  knew  very  well  that 
by  this  roundabout  way  it  would  take  half  a  yea^r  to  reach 
districts  situated  only  a  month's  journey  from  Gartok.  A 
new  caravan  would  be  necessary,  new  dangers  and  adven- 
tures awaited  us,  and  winter  was  before  us  with  its  Arctic 
cold.  iUit  it  must  be  done  in  .spite  of  everything.  I  would 
not  turn  back  until  the  obstacles  in  my  way  became  quite 
insuperable.  To  enter  Ladak,  a  country  under  British 
protection,  was  a  ri.>,k,  and  therefore  I  must  make  all  haste 
to  cross  the  frontier  again.  I  could  not  avoid  Rawling's 
anil  Dtasv's  country,  Init  what  did  it  matter?  My  aim 
was  the  unknown  region,  which  I  would  try  to  explore  by 
some  route  or  other. 

(;,j!;,..-.i  K:ivi!i  and  Robert  were  the  only  ones   who   were 
initiated  into  my  new  plans,  for    in  them  I     juld  place  the 


^h 


,»■'    ! 


^^S^ 


■n^^n 


A   RESOLUTION 


219 


blindest  confidence.  During  our  conferences  we  spoke  in 
Persian,  and  Robert  kci)t  a  wattli  that  no  eavesdropper 
came  near  my  tent.  Gulam  Razul  undertook  to  get 
together  the  new  caravan  from  Lch,  and  it  was  to  reach 
at  a  certain  time  Drugub,  where  I  meant  to  dismiss  my 
last  thirteen  men ;  they  were  worn-out  and  longed  to  get 
home.  Oulam  Razul  undertook  the  responsibility  of  finding 
me  fresh  men. 

On  October  20  we  left  Gartok  to  await  in  Gar-gunsa 
the  arrival  of  the  consignment  from  India.  Gulam  Razul, 
Thakur  Jai  Chand,  the  postmaster  Deni  Das,  and  the 
doctor  Mohanlal,  also  moved  thither.  Robert  had  heard 
in  Gartok  the  siid  news  that  his  eider  brother  had  died  in 
Further  India,  and  now  he  received  a  fresh  blow,  for  his 
little  brother,  ten  years  old,  had  been  drowned  in  Srinagar. 
He  was  inconsolable,  and  begged  me  to  let  him  go  home 
to  his  mother,  who  had  now  only  one  son  left.  So  I  was 
to  lose  him  also. 

Gulam  Razul  had  three  large  tents  within  his  fence  of 
boughs  (Illustratiim  254).  There  he  sat  like  a  pasha  on  his 
divan,  smoked  a  large  .silver  narghile,  and  received  his  guests 
with  Oriental  dignity.  He  was  jov  and  agreeable,  under- 
took to  do  everything,  and  though i  nothing  of  flitTiculties. 
There  we  made  our  plans  and  long  lists  of  thing-  >  be  bought, 
and  as  my  arrival  in  Ladak  could  not  be  kej)!  secret  for  long, 
we  spread  the  report  that  I  wanted  a  new  caravan  for  a 
journey  to  Khotan,  and  that  I  intended  to  travel  to  Pekin 
in  the  spring.  For  the  success  of  the  plan  it  was  essential 
that  no  one  should  have  any  suspicion  of  my  real  inten- 
tions; for  in  that  case,  especial  orders  would  be  .sent  to 
Rudok  and  to  the  nomads.  My  own  .servants  and  all 
Hajji  Xazcr  Shah's  household  believed  therefore  that  it 
was  my  .settled  purpose  to  go  to  Khotan,  and  that  I  had 
given  up  all  thoughts  of  Tibet.  I  even  went  so  far  as  to 
send  a  telegram  from  Drugub  to  Reutcr's  correspondent 
in  India,  my  friend  Mr.  Buck,  with  the  information  that 
I  was  about  to  make  a  short  journey  to  Khotan.  The 
object  was  to  mi.slcad  the  mandarins.  If  no  one  else 
would  help  me,  I  must  help  my.self,  and,  if  necessary,  with 
cunning  and   trickery.    None  of    my    Indian    friends   mj.st 


220 


TRAXS-HLMALAYA 


CHAP. 


.*! 


ii    \ 


•  h! 


^i 


11    ' 
1 


■l:i'l  I 


have  any  suspicion  of  my  real  plans,  not  even  Colonel 
I)unlo[)  Smith;  it  would,  of  course,  be  silly  to  put  them  in 
a  i)(,sition  where  they  must  either  Ix-tray  me  or  be  disloyal 
to  their  own  superiors.  Except  Gulam  Razul  and  Robert, 
only  my  j)arents  and  sisters  were  let  into  the  secret.  But, 
unfortunately,  I  had  given  them  a  far  too  optimistic 
estimate  of  the  length  of  my  nterprise,  and  therefore 
when  they  heard  no  news  they  became  day  by  day  more 
uneasy,  and  at  last  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  had  come 
to  grief  (Illustration  234). 

On  OctolKT  29,  1907,  Gulam  Razul's  mules  arrived, 
and  were  subjected  to  a  thorough  inspection.  They  were 
in  splendid  condition  —  small,  sturdy,  and  sleek  animals 
from  Lhasa,  accustomed  to  rarefied  air,  and,  according  to 
the  owner,  capable  of  enduring  hardships  of  every  kind. 
Gulam  Razul  even  olTercd  to  buy  them  back  at  the  price 
I  paid,  if  they  returned  alive.  I  paid  for  all  the  twenty 
1780  rupees.  I  still  i)ossessed  five  of  my  own  animals, 
after  a  small  white  mule  had  been  torn  to  pieces  by  wolves 
in  (Jartok.  A  whole  i)ack  had  attacked  our  last  six 
animals,  the  camp  watchman  had  bc:'n  unable  to  drive  the 
wolves  away,  and  the  mule  had  been  horribly  wounded. 
He  had  been  seen  running  tx^fore  the  wolves  with  his 
entrails  trailing  on  the  ground.  The  last  mule  from 
Poonch  still  survived,  as  well  as  my  little  Ladaki  grey  and 
one  of  his  fellows,  the  veterans  of  Leh. 

Gulam  Razul  also  undertook  to  procure  for  me  fifteen 
excellent  horses  from  Ladak  at  a  price  of  1500  rupees. 
The  other  purchases  consisted  of:  barley  for  the  animals, 
60  rupees;  rice,  70  rupes;  tsamha,  125  rupees;  provender 
sacks,  60  rupees;  clothes  for  the  new  men,  152  rupees; 
butter,  80  rupees;  tea,  50  rupees;  stearin  candles  and 
sugar,  104  rupees;  a  Lhasa  skin  coat  for  myself.  40  rupees; 
and  a  sleeping-bag  of  soft  goatskin,  also  for  myself,  25 
rupees;  in  addition  there  was  the  hire  of  the  pack  animals 
which  conveyed  my  baggage  to  Leh,  40  rupees,  and  the 
cost  of  transporting  the  newly  purchased  goods  from  Leh 
to  Drugub,  20  rupees.  Eleven  men  were  to  be  enlisted 
in  Leh.  all  having  served  in  Haiii  Xazcr  Shah's  comm.ercial 
house    and    known    as    honest    respectable    people.     They 


1 '.. 


<  IN     JHl      \\    \\      III     I    WK^F, 


■•  ■-    '    .-  ::-fi.:J*^^%i;^'M^'i 


2^'i.        [n    Tin     b      :        \\lll.,     MS     iiiK    WW     l<>    I.\ 


J''7.        'Illh     Nku     l|MH>f--      \M)     Mli.K-,     \1     l)Kl(,(il. 


:iMM:M!M  T 


m*^wtr^^-^^^- 


''11^ 


-a«        I   »•  '  r,0 


w^m^m  m^ 


I.  <': 


!|< 


Wi 


t^l^3^w? 


LIV 


A   RESOLUTKJX 


331 


were  to  receive  15  rupees  a  month  each,  tliouj^h  tlieir 
usual  \vaf,'es  had  not  been  more  tlian  12,  and  three  months' 
pay  in  advance.  The  caravan  bashi  was  to  receive  50 
rupees  a  month  and  be  selected  with  very  ^reat  care. 
My  wliole  deijt  to  (}ulam  Ra/.ul  amounted  to  nearly  5000 
rupees,  f(jr  those  who  had  had  the  trouble  of  makinj,'  all 
these  purchases  were  to  receive  a  douceur  over  and  above. 
I  sent  a  note  of  hand  to  Colonel  Dunlop  Smith,  with 
directions  that  this  sum  should  Ix-  j)aid  to  (}ulam  Razul,  in 
order  that  he  might  have  security  if  I  did  not  return  from 
this  journey. 

On  October  .p  Gulani  Razul  sent  his  son  to  Leh  to 
e(iui[)  the  new  -ravan,  which  was  to  reach  Drugub,  ready 
in  all  i)artici.  rs,  on  XovemlxT  ,^0.  For  the  valuable 
services  rendered  me  on  this  occasion  Clulam  Razul  after- 
wards received  from  II.  M.  King  (justaf  of  Sweden  the 
gold  medal  "for  distinguished  service,"  and  I  recommended 
him  to  the  Indian  (Government  for  the  title  of  honour, 
Khan  Bahadur;  of  course  I  based  my  appeal  in  this  case 
on  the  great  commercial  services  he  had  rendered  to  the 
Indian  Empire. 

In  Ciar-gunsa  I  heard  news  of  a  new  treaty  between 
Great  Britain  and  Russia,  which  had  been  concluded  in 
OctolxT  of  this  year.  "Cireat  Britain  and  Russia  bind 
themselves  not  to  allow  any  scientific  e.x{)edition  of  any 
kind  whatsoever  to  enter  Tibet  for  the  ne.xt  three  years 
without  previous  agreement,  and  call  upon  China  to  act 
similarly"  (Illustratioi'   274). 

It  seemed  as  though  this  clause  were  especially  de- 
signed to  meet  my  case.  I  said  not  a  word  to  (lulam 
Razul  alx)Ut  it.  But  I  saw  that  I  could  no  longer  travel 
in  Tibet  as  a  European.  Last  year  I  had  been  successful 
when  the  j)olitical  situation  was  still  unsettled,  but  I  had 
taught  lx)th  the  Chinese  and  Tibetans  a  lesson,  and  shown 
them  that  it  was  possible  for  a  European  to  travel  right 
across  the  country.  I  had  also  placed  a  weaj)on  in  their 
hands  against  me.  I  should  not  be  able  to  manage  it 
a  second  time.  Now  they  would  keep  their  eyes  open 
njonjr  the  'H'ri^>Hi*r"  'if  th-i'  inh.ibitefl  rountrv.  T  mtist 
travel  in  disguise  to  attract  as  little  attention  as  possible. 


Tm. 


^^^mm 


WWl. 


■,,ixl^^\J^*' 


^^AMiJ. 


i^. 


TRAXS-I II  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


4 


Another  courirr  was  therefore  sent  to  Lch  to  procure  me 
a  (uiiipletc  Ladaki  costume  in  Mohammedan  fashion. 
(Julam  Ka/.ul  also  was  of  opinion  that,  considering'  all 
cinumstaiui.s.  it  would  he  wisest  to  travel  as  a  merchant. 
The  new  caravan  kadiT  was  to  he  our  master,  while  I 
mysJf  should  li.i^ure  as  "the  least  of  his  servants,"  and 
keep  mvself  out  of  si,L,'hl   in  all   neL,'otiations. 

The' whole  affair  was  a  desperate  ^'ame,  a  y)olitical  and 
diplomatic  ^ame  of  chess,  the  stakes  beini^'  my  own  life  or 
},'reat  ^eo^'raphical  discoveries.  I.  who  had  hitherto  stood 
on  the  most  friendly  and  confidential  terms  with  the 
Tibetans,  must  now  avoid  them  as  enemies.  I  should  not 
he  able  to  see  any  Tibetan  face  to  face,  and  should  have  to 
conceal  mv  own  eyes  in  order  not  to  be  cau<^ht.  Therefore 
a  lari,a'  pair  of  round  j^'oi^'i^lcs  with  dark  glasses  was 
bou.^'lU;  inside  them  I  fastened  jxtlished  f^lasses  ()f  the 
streni^'th  suited  to  my  sight.  My  Huro[)ean  outfit  was 
restricted  as  much  as  was  at  all  ])Ossible;  the  large 
camera  and  the  boat  were  sent  to  Leh  with  my  other 
baggage,    and    1    took    with    me    only    a    small    Richard's 

camera. 

The  main  [)oint  was  that  in  inhabited  districts  I   should 
conduct    myself    with    Oriental    self-control    and    lx>   entirely 
j)assive.     The   outcome   of   this   mad   plan   was   to   me    en- 
shrouded   in    imi>eni'trable    darkness.     I    only    knew   that    I 
must    go   northwards   from   Drugub   in   the  direction  of   the 
Karakorum  pass,  then  turn  to  the  east  and  south-east,  and 
endeavour    to    cross    from    Lemchung  tso    the    blank    space 
King   to   the   south   of    Bower's   route    in    i8gi,   and   thence 
continue    mv    jourmy    through    the   great    blank    jjatch    on 
the   north   ()f   the  upper  TsangjX).     If    I   were   successful   I 
would  go  south  to   India  either  through  Nepal  or  through 
(jyangtse,  where   perhaps   I   might   have   an   oi)portunity   of 
meeting   Major  O'Connor,  as   I   had  always  wished  to  do. 
r.ulan-T  Ka/.ul    advised    me    to    be    very    cautious,    for    the 
Rudok-dzong    had    a    i)aid    spy    in    Drugub,    who    had     to 
report    on    the    movements    of    Europeans    on    the    English 
side    of    the    frontier.      This    spy    was    one    of    the    most 
dangerous    reefs    in    my    fairway;     the    suspicion    of     llie 
Tibetans  was  at  once  roused  when  they  found  that  I  had 


Wk^^:.:¥m 


UIV 


A    RESOLUTION 


223 


bought  twenty  mules  from  Gulam  Razul.  The  G;iri)un 
sent  a  messenger  to  find  out  what  I  wanted  them  for. 
He  was  told  that  thev  were  for  a  journey  to  Khotan. 

Thakur  Jai  Chand  had  an  excellent  jamadar  whom  he 
sent  to  meet  the  baggage  coming  from  India.  At  length, 
in  the  Ix'ginning  of  NovemlxT,  we  received  news  that  the 
consignment  was  coming.  Then  Rolx-rt  proposed  to  go 
to  meet  our  wished-for  guests  with  some  of  our  new- 
mules.  Late  on  the  evening  of  the  6th  they  all  turned  up 
when  I  was  already  in  bed.  They  were  five  policemen 
from  Rampur,  one  of  them  suffering  from  inflammation  of 
the  lungs  and  more  dead  than  alive.  When  Robert  met 
them  they  were  so  starved  and  exhausted  that  he  had  first 
to  massage  the  whole  i)arty  to  put  new  life  into  them  (Illus- 
tration 276). 

I  at  once  gave  orders  to  light  a  roaring  fire  and  serve 
tea.  They  came  up  with  their  laden  mules,  two  Moham- 
medans, three  Hindus  — all  in  dark  blue  uniforms  with  tall 
blue-and-whitc  turbans,  rifles,  and  bayonets.  I  bade  them 
welcome,  thanked  them  for  the  excellent  way  in  which 
they  had  performed  their  task,  and  made  their  corporal 
give  me  an  account  of  their  diflicult  and  trying  journey 
over  the  Ayi-la.  Then  they  were  shown  to  slee|)ing  i)laces 
in  a  tent,  and  next  day  I  looked  through  the  nine  chests 
sent  to  me  by  Colonel  Dunlop  Smith.  Three  of  them 
contained  6000  rupees  in  silver,  all  of  the  Queen's  reign, 
none  of  the  King's,  for  the  Tibetans  will  not  take  rupees 
on  which  King  Edward's  face  is  stamped.  The  other 
bo.xes  contained  tinned  meat  of  all  kinds,  preserves,  choco- 
late, cheese,  cakes  and  biscuits;  cigars,  cigarettes,  and 
tobacco;  gold  and  silver  watches,  and  revolvers  with 
ammunition,  for  presents;  cartridges  for  two  of  our  guns; 
note-books  and  map  paper;  a  whole  library  of  new  novels, 
including  Jack  London's  The  Cdl  of  the  Wild  —  a  present 
from  O'Connor  and  suitable  reading  for  the  adventurous 
time  before  us;  an  anemometer  and  a  hydrometer,  presents 
from  the  chief  of  the  Central  Meteorological  Institute  in 
Simla,  Dr.  Gilbert  Walker;  and  a  host  of  other  necessary 
and  acceptable  articles.  The  amiable  Colonel,  his  eq-jally 
amiable    sister,    and    his    daughter,    had    had    no    end    of 


i^^f^^i^^^^irn. .:  tr^-^ij  ^  j^^'IT  ^#!?^,=i: 


-J  ■*  I L. 


(\ 


';i. 


224 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CBAP. 


\!\ 


I 


■'I  I 


:>  >/. 


''  n 


ri  !ii 


!!! 


troiil;;o  in  selecting  and  purchasing  the  things,  packing 
thtm  up  and  transmitting  tht-m  to  Tibet.  It  was  owing 
to  their  kindness  that  1  was  able  for  a  long  time  to 
live  like  a  j)rince,  and  I  cannot  Ix'  sulTiciently  grateful  to 
tlum. 

Xow  I  had  nothing  more  to  wait  for.  The  policemen 
were  well  paid,  and  I  also  Iwre  the  e.xpense  of  their  return 
journey  and  gave  them  winter  clothing;  took  a  hearty 
farewell  of  my  sincere  friend  Gulam  Razul,  without  whose 
help  the  new  journey  wcjuld  have  been  impossible ;  thanked 
Thakur  Jai  Chand  and  the  other  Hindus  for  their  kind- 
ness, and  started  olT  on  November  9,  1907,  north-westwards 
along  the  course  of  the  upper  Indus. 

On  the  26th  we  reached  Tankse,  where  the  dignitaries 
of  the  district  and  even  the  Tcsildar  of  Leh  came  to  meet 
us.  They  had  already  heard  that  I  intended  to  travel  to 
Khotan  in  midwinter.  The  following  day  was  to  be  a  day 
of  rest,  for  here  I  was  to  discharge  all  my  old  servants 
except  Robert  and  the  Gurkha,  Rub  Das.  When  I  had 
breakfasted,  Tsering  carried  out  the  plates  and  dishes, 
wliich  now  had  many  chijjs  out  of  their  enamel.  "This  is 
the  last  time,  Tsering,  that  you  will  wait  on  me."  Then 
the  old  man  began  to  weep,  and  hurried  out  quickly. 

Then  I  summoned  all  the  men  to  my  tent  and  made 
them  a  sj)eech,  telling  them  that  they  had  served  me 
faithfully  and  obediently,  and  had  well  earned  the  comfort 
and  repose  that  awaited  them  by  their  domestic  hearths  in 
the  Ixjsom  of  their  families.  I  wished  them  good  fortune 
and  j)rosperity  in  the  future,  and  reminded  them  of  the 
loss  we  had  all  sustained  by  the  death  of  Muhamed  Isa  — 
good  old  Muhamed  Isa,  who,  when  we  were  last  at  Tankse, 
had  made  all  arrangements  so  cleverly  and  conscientiously. 
And  to  show  them  that  we  were  not  the  only  ones  who 
mourned  for  him,  I  read  them  what  Younghusband, 
O'Connor,  and  Rawling  had  written  to  me  about  the 
deceased. 

While  their  five  horses  and  five  yaks  were  being 
loaded  with  all  their  belongings,  they  came  to  me  in  my 
tent,  one  after  another,  to  receive  their  pay  and  an  extra 
present.     Tsering,   Rehim   Ali,   Shukkur  All,  and    Tundup 


mi^S^^^lSi^i^l^ 


i^'^,: 


■i"  ^M^i^iSi^-iJj^^^ 


!t     'I 


I  \ 


i^. 


\ ! 


A   RKSOLITIOX 


"5 


Sonam  received  especial  „'ifts  of  monev.  the  latti-  iliree 
having  exposed  themsiive>  to  (i.iiigcr  on  mv  ii.c.unt 
Old  Tserin^'  a.ked  to  1m-  allourd  to  kirp  tiu'  '  inic  .jog 
from  the  .\«an','tse  tso ;  its  hark  U-fore  his  hut  in  Lih 
would  remind  him  of  thr  time  when  the  dog  kipt  w.drh  at 
our  camp  fires.  Sl.ukkur  Ali  kipt  anothir  dujr  from  the 
same  country.  Now  I  had  onlv  thr  hroun  I'uppv.  \vhi(  h. 
with  RoUrt  and  the  mule  from  Pooneh,  utre  amonp  tin" 
oldest  veterans  of  the  caravan,  all  thrtr  havin;,'  aecm- 
I)anied  me  from  Srinaf^ar. 

And  then  came  the  hitter  moment  of  p.--tin^'.  So 
much  grief,  such  loud  weeping!  iluy  could  1.  dly  tear 
themselves  away.  The  Tcsildar  was  quite  overcome  at 
witnessing  the  deep  attachment  of  mv  simple  followers. 
The  honds  were  strong  that  were  now  »orn  asunder,  for 
there  is  nothing  which  knits  men  togetiier  so  firmly  as 
common  sufferings  and  dangers.  I  mysell  felt  a  catch  in 
my  throat,  and,  as  the  men  reluctantly  followed  their  \aks 
down  the  road  to  Drugul),  I  ^toixl  and  watchid  them 
until  they  were  out  of  sight.  Th.  n  I  diied  my  ryes 
Ix'fore  going  into  my  tent,  wher(  Roi)<.rt  and  the  fcsildar 
were  waiting  for  me  with  tea  and  cakes  served  up  hy  Ruh 
Das.  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  a  funeral  rei)ast  after 
an  interment,  at  which  a  wreath  of  violets  had  heen  laid 
on  the  grave  of  a  departed  friend. 

Next  morning  I  awoke  to  new  surroundings.  All  my 
old  companions  were  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  and 
now  they  were  gone  all  seemed  emptv  and  deserted. 
Robert  read  off  the  meteorological  instruments  as  usual, 
and  Rub  Das  laid  my  breakfast  as  noiselesslv  as  an  elf.  I 
was  glad  that  in  spite  of  everything  I  felt  not  the  slightest 
irresolution.  The  same  angel  who  had  protected  me  on 
my  former  journey  would  again  attend  my  steps  I  seemed 
to  hear  once  more  in  the  di.-lance  the  rustle'of  his  wings  in  the 
cold  winter  nights  on  the  Chang-tang. 


VOL.    U 


ms^K^y  ■':'W^^^  ^:Si^msL 


WIWBP^,^..^ 


! 

w 

1 

'^( 

1 

1 

1  1 

1 1  I 

^1 


h 


(!?. 


i 


CHAPTKR   LV 

A  NF.W    CHAPTER 

As  soon  as  wc  wore  ready  vve  mounted  our  horses  and 
nnlc  down  l'>  Drui^ul).  Soon  the  old  vilhiRe  came  in 
slight  with  thi'  hou>e  in  whieh  I  had  dwelt  six  years  Ix'forc, 
and  the  garden  in  whieh  we  liad  haUed  in  the  year  1906. 
On  a  terrace  1k1<»w  the  villaj^e  stocxl  our  three  tents  and 
a  fourth.  'I'hi  jamatUir  I>he,  old  Iliraman,  who  never 
omitted  to  ^M-eet  nie.  and  youn<;  Armar  Ju,  another 
of  mv  old  friinil>,  salaam<(i  ami  i)resented  to  me  my  new 
men.'  These  three  had  orders  from  the  Tesildar  to 
acconi])anv  me  to  Shyok. 

"Who  is  the  earav;>n  bashi?"  1  asked. 
"I    am."    an>were(l    a    little    wrinkle<l    old    man    called 
Alxlul  Kerim,  and  wearinj^  a  large  yellow  skin-coat  (Illustra- 
tion  2S(;). 

"What  are  the  names  of  the  others.''" 
"KutU'^.    (uilam,    Suen,    Alxlul    Rasak,    Sedik,    Lobsang, 
Kunchuk.  ("lalfar,  AlxluUah,  and  Sonam  Kunehuk." 

"\ou  are  then  eleven   men  altogether  —  three  Lamaists 
and  eight  Mohammedans?" 
"Yes.  Sahib." 

"I  shall  at  some  future  time  take  down  your  names, 
ages,  places  of  alxnle,  the  journeys  you  have  made,  the 
services  vou  have  Ixen  in,  etc." 

It  turned  out  that  very  few  of  them  had  ever  been 
in  the  service  of  a  European,  but  all  had  been  employed 
bv  Na/xr  Shah,  and  his  son  Gulam  Razul  answered  for 
them.  Four  had  been  in  Lhasa,  and  almost  all  the 
Mohammedans  in  Varkand,  and  all  seemed  pleasant  and 
cheerful,   and   were   in   the   prime  of  life. 

336 


Amu  1    KmiM,    nri    Niw  {'\k\\\N    I.kxdkr. 


i^l-- 


W^W^- 


fT^spP^-  j^  -^ 


tm; 


^5-.: 


llli 


1 1. 


LJ^ 


CHAP.  LV 


A   NEW   CHAPTER 


227 


"Which  of  you  is  mv  cook?" 

"I  am,"   answered    Gulam,  a  comical    little  fellow,  who 
immediatel)    received   a   lecture  fror      \.il)   -Oas  how   I  was 
to  be  attended  on  (Illustration  291, 
"Are  vou  all  Ladakis?" 

"Yes,'  Sahib,  all  except  Lobsai./,  who  is  a  'Iitoan 
f  om  Gar-gunsa,  but  has  married  in  Leh  and  has  served 
with  the  Hajji  Xazer  Shah." 

I  was  somewhat  loath  to  take  a  Tibetan  with  me 
on  a  journey  where  it  was  essential  to  keep  the  Tibetans 
as  long  as  possible  in  the  dark.  If  danger  threatened, 
how  easilv  he  could  U-tray  me  to  his  countrymen!  I  con- 
sidered whether  I  would  not  exchange  him  for  another 
man,  or  simply  leave  him  behind.  Hut  how  often  had 
I  reason  subsequently  to  rejoice  that  I  had  not  given 
effect  to  the  suggestion!  With  the  excei)tion  of  the 
four  Russian  cossacks  and  Robert,  Loljsang  was  the  bc-st 
servant  who  ever  accompanieti  me  on  my  journeys  through 
the  wilds  of  Asia.  He  was  a  splendid  man,  and  I  cherish 
a  warm  recollection  of  him  (Illustration  290). 

All  were  now  welcomed  into  my  service,  and  I 
expressed  the  hope  that  they  would  jKTform  their  duty 
as  faithfully  as  their  predecessors,  promised  them  an  extra 
donation  of  50  rupees  each  if  I  were  contented  with  them, 
and  told  them  that  I  would  pay  the  expensc-s  of  their 
return  home  from  the  point  where  our  journey  ended,  just 
as  I  had  done  before.  When  it  was  known  in  Leh  that 
I  wanted  fresh  servants  for  the  journey  to  Khotan, 
GufTaru  and  all  the  men  I  had  sent  home  from  Tokchen 
presented  themselves  and  begged  earnestly  to  Ik-  restored 
to  my  service.  But  the  old  Hajji  had  received  strict  direc- 
tions from  his  son.  Not  one  of  my  old  servants  might 
accompany  me  this  time,  for  it  would  increase  the  (langer 
if  we  met  Tibetans  with  whom  we  were  already  acquainted. 

The  new  horses  seemed  fine  and  strong,  and  stcxxi, 
eating  hay  and  barlev,  i^^  a  long  row  along  a  wall,  Ix-side 
the  mules  and  the  veterans  from  Leh.  They  were  to  be 
well  fed,  for  the  davs  of  feasting  would  soon  be  over,  and 
it  would  be  well  if  they  put  on  flesh,  on  which  they  could 
fall  back  in  evil  davs.     All  the  goods  ordered  were  of  the 


;l     ! 


! 


I; 


'•i 


'•  t; 


nil 


i  I ' 


il 


228 


TRAXS-II I  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


lH>t  quality,  and  parked  in  new  strong  toxcs  covered  with 
Uathcr  (liru>trati()n  287). 

On  till'  morning  of  XowmbcT  29,  1007.  three  1  iL)ctans 
came  fn.m  Ru.lok-.l/.onK  an.l  >et  up  their  tents  on  our 
Kft  wing.  There,  I  tliouglit.  now  espionage  is  beginning. 
\n  hour  later  we  heard  the  sound  of  bells  uj)  in  the  valley. 
The  noise  Ix'canie  louder  and  louder  Ix-tween  the  clilTs, 
and  a  great  din  was  rai>ed  as  thirty-four  tine  little  mules 
\vilh  loads  of  >alt  pas>e.l  bv  mv  tent.  All  had  a  chain  of  small 
bells  round  their  neek>,  mo>t  of  them  were  adorned  with 
red  and  blue  ribands,  and  some  had  large  red  tassels 
hanging  at  their  che>t..,  which  almost  touched  the  ground 
an.l  swung  alK)Ut  at  everv  step.  It  was  a  bright  and  lively 
scene  and  the  jingle  of  bells  allured  me  out  to  fresh 
adventurer  in  di-^tant  regions.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eve 
the  animals  were  relieve.l  of  their  loads  and  driven  up  the 
vallev  like  a  herd  of  wild  as-es.  to  graze  on  the  scanty 
grabs'  among  the  granite.  The  owners  must  then  Ijc 
traders  Thev  afterwards  came  into  my  tent,  took  tea 
and  'igarettc's,  an.l  a>ke.l  Alxiul  Kerim  whither  we  were 
travelling,  lie  answered  without  lying.  "1.)  ^^'lo/^"; 
It  was  I  who  lie.l.  liut  had  I  told  the  truth.  I  should 
have  been  stopped  in  fourteen  days,  and  might  as  well 
have  gone  home  at  once. 

We  ha.l  three  new  tents.  The  two  larger  accommo- 
dated mv  eleven  servanl>;  the  smallest,  which  was  so 
small  that  one  could  onlv  stand  upright  under  the  ridge- 
nole  and  coul.l  onlv  he)ld  a  Ixd  and  two  1x).xes,  was  mine. 
I  wishe.l  to  have  one  as  small  as  possible  that  it  might 
m..re  e'asilv  be  kept  warm.  -Ml  my  baggage  was  re-packed. 
I  .rave  some  superlluous  articles  to  Rolx-rt  and  to  the  Xev. 
Mr  Peter  in  Leh.  There  was  a  very  thorough  sorting 
„ut  and  onlv  what  was  absolutely  indispensable  was 
packed,  tilling'  iwo  Ixixes,  one  of  which  chielly  contaim- 
Swidish  and "  English  Ixjoks,  sent  by  my  sister  Alma  and 
Colonel  Dunlop  Smith.  As  soon  as  they  were  read,  they 
woul.l  K-  olTered  to  the  winds.  When  I  moved  at  night 
int..  mv  new  tent  an.l  lai.l  myself  to  rest  in  the  large 
sleeping  bag  lined  with  sheep's  w(K)1,  and  cyered  myself, 
I  was  as  warm  and  comfortable  as  in  a  bed  at  home. 


*l, 


['[{' 

!' '- 

I.  f 


'f 


i; 


ih 


1 


I 


LV 


A   NEW   CHAPTER 


229 


Gulam  Razul's  son.  Alxlul  Hai,  visited  mc,  ami  our 
business  matters  were  transacted  with  him.  RoUrt 
remained  responsible  for  my  heavy  bafz«a,-;e  until  he  ha<i 
dcpfisited  it  in  the  house  of  the  Hajji  Xazer  Sliah.  It 
consisted  of  ten  rei;ulation  hors-loaiU.  Tn  my  kisuu' 
hours  I  wrote  a  heap  of  letters,  which  Rolxrt  was  to  hand 
in  at  the  post-ofl'ice  in  Leh. 

We  had  now  21  muU  s  and  g  horses,  the  t)rown 
Puppv.  and  a  lar^e  yellow  do^'  from  (lartok.  All 
the  mules  and  horses,  excejn  mine  and  Alxlul  Kerim's 
saddle-horses,  carrie<l  loads.  I  rcnle  mv  little  white 
Ladaki  (Illustrations  296,  297,  2f)8),  which  ha.  urowi.  marvel- 
louslv  strong'  aj^'ain,  and  was  as  spirited  as  one  of  the  new 
horses.  He  and  two  others  were  the  survivors  of  the  larj,'e 
caravan  which  had,  on  the  former  occasiiin,  set  out  from  Leh. 
In  order  to  make  sure  that  Alxl.l  Kerim  took  suflicient 
provender,  I  told  him  he  must  n')t  think  that  I  would  follow 
the  direct  road  like  ordinary  raravans.  T  mi^ht  make  excur- 
sions right  and  left,  and  often  remain  stationary  for  a  week  at 
a  time.'  He  must,  therefore,  provide  barley  for  the  animals 
for  two-and-a-half  months,  and  he  must  take  carethat  the 
provender  we  took  with  us  lasted  out.  Hut  it  is  >tupid 
to  trust  to  others.  All  the  heavy  baggage  from  Simla,  the 
silver  money,  and  the  tinned  |)rovi>ions  made  four  loads; 
Gulam's  chests  of  kitchen  utenr-ils  two;  the  tent,  the 
bedding,  and  the  Ixlongings  of  the  men  made  several 
loads;  all  the  other  animals  were  to  l)e  laden  with 
rice,    barlev,    and    Isaniba.     We    also    took    25    sheei)    from 

Tankse. 

In  the  night  of  Decemkr  3  the  thermometer  fell 
to  -10.1°.  Next  morning  all  the  baggage  was  packe(l  U[) 
and  carried  down  the  valley  to  Shyok  by  coolies.  Two 
fellows,  as  strong  as  kars.  carried  my  two  tent-boxes. 
The  animals  carried  only  their  new  saddle-.  One  gnjup 
after  another  marched  olT,  and  at  last  I  remained  alone. 
Then  I  shook  hands  with  my  faithful  companion,  Rolx'rt, 
thanked  him  for  his  invaluable  services,  his  honesty,  his 
courage,  and  his  patience;  asked  him  to  greet  for  me  the 
missionaries.  Dr.  Neve,  and  warm  India:  took  leave  also 
of   honest   Rub   Das  and   all   the  others;    mounted   into   my 


,i^  1^ 


1!ll 


i '  i   ! 


i  ''< 


i-i ; 


s 


230 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


new  La(hik  sad.lle  on  my  irusty  white-,  am  ro<lc  down  to 
the  Shvnk  valkv  with  Anmar  Ju.  I  was  the  ast  remain- 
ing ..fthc'  original  caravan,  and  was  surrounded  by  men 
^vho  were  compktc  strangers  to  me.  Hut  I  was  also 
stran-'e  to  them,  and  they  had  no  suspicion  of  the 
f.M.lh'anlv  adventures  I  intended  to  lea<l  them  into.  I  he 
wind,  however,  was  the  same,  and  the  same  stars  woukl 
tuinkk-  in  the  skv  during;  the  coki  siknt  nights  in  Iibet. 
So  I  shoukl  not  W  quite  ak)ne. 

It    i.    httle    more    than    6    miles    to    Shyok,    and    >c 
this    slv.rt    .listance    tuck    almost    eight    hours.     \Ve    had 
t,.  cross  the  river  six  times,  which  just  Ix-low  the  village  o 
Drugut,  has  cut   a  ikvp  "'""row   passage   between  rocks  ol 
granite  and   gnei.s.     The   first  crossing  was  easy,    '^r  there 
Se    river   had    been    fn./.en   over   in    the   night,    and    though 
the    ice    cracked,    we    passed    over    by    a    path    strewn    wi  h 
san.l       \t    the    second    i)assage    the    river    was    open,     but 
id    and     hallow,   and^   the   ice   Ix^lts   on   Ix-th   su  es   had 
lleen  >trewn  with  sand.     The  third,  where  we  had  to  cross 
over  a-'ain   to  the  right   bank,   was  very   awkward,  l)ecause 
^cV    hcTt.    su<!denlv    en<ling    in    the    mid.lle    were    Ocxxled 
in   conscciuen.e  of' a  damming   up  of  the   ice   '-^ver  down 
Thev  could  not  therefore  be  strewn  with  sand    and  nnc  had 
to  be  careful  lest  we  should  fall  out  of  the  saddle  when  the 
h<,rses    set    tlieir    feet    down    in    the    water    3    ft.'et    deep. 
It    is    little    more    agreeable    when    he    jumps    up    on    the 
oppl".site    edge,    and    his    hooves   slide    alx^ut    Ix-fore   he    can 
cet    a   firm    foothold   on    the   smooth   icc. 
^     Below    this    place   was    the    fourth   crossing  -  the   worst 
of  all       an«l  here  the  whole  train  had  come  to  a  halt.     Un 
the  ri-dit  bank,  where  we  stocxl.  the  river  was  broad  and  deep, 
with  lev   col.l.  <lark  blue,  transparent   water  winding  down, 
Init  at  the  left  bank  lav  a  broad  U'lt  of  ice.     Suen    a  ta  1 
!,iack.bearde.l  man  with  very  Jewish  features   barc.l  his  bo<l 
and    examined    the     ford    on     horseback.     In    ^^^lo'"!?    ^^ 
.ot  into   water  so  deep  that  his  h<.rse  Ix-gan  to  ^^vim.     Then 
he    jumped    in    himself    and    swam   to    the  edge  of   the  icc 
where  i    c.t    him   great  elTort    to  climb  up.     Poor  man !     I 
Shivered    as    I    looked    at  him;     he  had    been    ciuite   under 
water. 


n   i 


-; _-  j>- 


ii,i.        ltKi.i.\K^. 


..,,.      \i.iii  I    ki  KIM-.  M  AV  Ti  sr. 


III' 


,  I 


(  1 


i;: 

1 

A. ' 


tv 


A   NEW  CHArrKR 


231 


Four  of  the  others  made  an  attempt  a  little  hi.^her  up. 
and  got  over,  but  they  were  up  to  their  necks  in  water. 
Then  the  whole  troop  of  mules  an<l  horses  were  driven 
into  the  river;  the  horses  mana,i,'nl  Ixst.  One  mule,  I  felt 
sure,  would  Ix-  lost.  He  made  no  attempt  to  hoist  himself 
on  to  the  ice  until  he  had  Intn  pelted  with  stones  from 
our  bank.  And  when  at  length  he  was  up  and  was  follow- 
ing the  track  of  the  others,  the  ice  cracked  and  gave  way 
un'^Ur  him,  and  there  he  lay  enclosed.  All  five  men  had  to 
l^ull  him  out  and  drag  him  over  the  ice  to  solid  ground. 

IJarelv  100  yards  farther  down  is  the  fifth  ford.  Be- 
tween the  two  stands  a  steep,  smooth,  projecting  rmk,  its 
f(K)t  washed  by  the  river.  It  is.  however,  possible  to 
climb  over  the  rock  up  small  fissures  and  over  slight 
projections  and  thus  avoid  the  two  detestable  fords. 
Here  all  the  baggage  was  carried  over  by  the  coolies,  and 
I  myself  climUd  over  the  rocks  baref<x)ted ;  a  short  way 
lx?yond  this  crag  a  strong  man  carried  me  over  smooth 
flooded  ice.  Here  we  had  plenty  of  time  for  meditation, 
while  the  animals  were  again  driven  through  such  deep 
water  that  they  almost  had  to  swim.  All  were  wet  up  to 
the  root  of  the  tail  and  many  had  water  over  their  backs. 
The  poor  creatures  stool  together  closely  in  a  group,  with 
pieces  of  ice  hanging  from  their  flanks  and  knocking 
together  like  castanets.  We  kindled  a  fire  that  the  five 
men  who  had  Ix-en  in  the  water  might  undress,  dry 
themselves,  and  change  every  stitch  of  clothing. 

Then  we  went  some  distance  downstream  to  a  place 
where  the  heavy  provisions  were  piled  up  on  the  bank, 
and  the  poor  animals  had  to  enter  the  icy  water  before 
they  had  got  warm  again.  Here  the  baggage  had  to  Ix- 
carried  over  the  river  by  stark-naked  men,  who  tried  with 
staves  in  their  hands  to  keep  their  equilibrium  among  the 
treacherous  rounded  stones  in  the  river  Ix-d.  An  elderly 
man  was  seized  with  cramp  when  he  was  half  way  across 
and  could  not  move  a  step.  Two  lx»ld  youths  jumped  into 
the  water  and  dragged  him  to  land.  Two  mules,  which 
could  not  Ix.'  induced  by  coaxing  or  scolding  to  enter  the 
water,  were  tugged  over  with  a  rojx^.  I  had  a  guide 
before  my  horse,  which  was  wet  half  way  up  the  saddle,  so 


i 


ll'll'l 


111 


»"  i 


23^ 


TRANS- HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


that  I  had  to  tuck  up  my  k^^  as  hi^h  as  possible,  and  in 
this  f)o>ition  it  was  very  diflkult  to  kctp  my  halancf,  as  the 
horse  mack'  unexpected  jumj)s  among  the  blocks.  The 
men  raJM-d  such  a  loud  hurrah  that  the  mountains  rang 
again  when  I  was  over  the  last  ford  with  a  whole  skin;  a 
blazing  fire  prevented  any  ill  el7ecl>  from  my  foot  bath. 
Kvery  man,  who  came  across  shivering.  (irip[iiiig.  and  blue 
with  cold,  had  to  sit  down  immediately  by  the  fire.  I 
could  not  understand  why  they  were  not  fro/en  to  death. 

Then  wc  nnle  in  the  twilight  u\)  and  down  hill,  and  it 
was  pitch  dark  Ixfore  a  welcome  blazing  fire  showed  us 
that  we  were  near  the  village  of  Shyok.  We  gathered 
round  it  as  we  came  up.  and  delighted  in  its  radiating  heat. 
I  could  not  help  consoling  mvMlf  with  the  thought  that,  if 
anv  pursuers  followed  me  up  from  the  English  side,  they 
would  at  any  r.ite  get  a  C<>1<1  l)ath  Ixfore  they  found  me. 

In  the  night  tin  temi)erature  fell  to  only  15.4°.  but  here 
wc  were  at  a  height  of  only  12.^15  feet.  We  stayed  on 
DecemlKT  5  in  Sliyok,  to  dry  the  i)ack  >addles  and  give  the 
animals  a  day's  re.st  after  their  trying  work.  In  the  even- 
ing the  men  held  .1  farewell  festival,  for  Shyok  was  the  last 
village  in  Ladak.  .As  soon  as  the  drums  and  flutes  were 
htard,  all  the  women  and  girls  of  the  country  flocked  to 
the  (lanre. 

On  December  6  wc  took  leave  of  our  last  friends,  and 
marched  down  the  slopes  to  the  floor  of  the  Shyok  valley, 
where  the  altitude  is  12. ,^00  feet;  it  was  the  lowest  sf)ot  we 
were  in  for  a  k):ig  time  (Illuslrali"n  ,^00).  For  from  here 
we  mounted  nortlnvards  up  the  valley  excavated  by  the  great 
afllucnt  of  tlie  Indus.  There  is  no  road  or  \y.\{h  to  speak  of, 
onlv  rubbish  and  rounded  lx)ulders,  but  the  >cencry  is  won- 
derfully fine,  and  gigantic  g  anite  crags  tower  uj)  on  all  sides. 
We  crossed  I'h-  river  five  times,  which  here  carries  about 
420  cubic  feel  of  water  ami  has  Ik-Us  of  ice  of  varying 
breadth.  ;\  solitary  starved  wanderer  from  Yarkand  met 
us,  and  was  given  a  meal  of  tsamlui.  We  ,  tched  "iir 
camp  among  the  bushes  in  a  Ix'd  of  .sand  at  Chong-yangal, 
where  1  had  stayed  in  tli<-  year  TQ02. 

We   were   mlw   alone.     Only   one   man   n'>t   belonging  to 
the  caravan  was  still  with  us,  Tubges  of  Shyok,  who  had 


i>i 


tv 


A   NEW   CIIAPTKR 


^}i 


char^f  of  our  s1ut|)  duriiiK  tin-  rarly  tl.iy>  of  our  jourrn  y, 
csiK'cially  at  tin-  fords.  In  tlu-  iviniii«  I  had  a  n.nvirs.t 
tion  with  ANlul  Kirim,  Kutii^.  ami  llulam.  I  now  told 
them  that  1  w.-uld  not  travil  to  Khotan  \)\  tlu'  ordinary 
road,  Utausr  1  knew  it  alnady.  W f  woul<l  >trikr  more  to 
the  cast,  and  the  MM)nrr  wc  lamc  uj)  on  to  thi-  |>latraii  the 
kttiT.  They  ri'plinl  that  luhKis  km  w  the  (ountry  will. 
He  was  calkd  in  to  the  i()n>ultation.  What  if  wc  went 
through  the  Chang-clunmo  valley  to  Tam/al  and  the 
Lanakla?  "No,"'  he  answered,  "that  is  imi>os>il)le ;  one 
can  ^o  as  far  as  ( )ro  ^  -t^e,  hut  there  the  valley  Ihcomh-,  as 
narrow  as  a  corridor,  and  iee  ea>eades  and  l)oulder>  (over 
the  Ijotlom  of  the  valley.  Anim.ds  eannoi  ^vl  tlirou<^h 
even  withijut  loads."  It  'was  then  evident  that  we  must 
continue  up  the  Shyok  valley  and  watch  for  an  opportunity 
of  diver^'in}^  eastwards. 

So  on  the  7th  we  v.iiit  on  U'tween  ^rand  mountain 
gables,  silent  and  solemn,  like  K^'yptian  pyramids,  like 
cathedrals  and  fortress  tower>.  between  them  detritus 
cones  descend  to  the  valley  iloor.  where  their  l»a-es  are 
enxled  by  the  hi^h  w.iter  of  the  summer  tlood  and  cut  olT 
in  perpendicular  walls.  It  must  be  a  ma^'nilkent  spectacle 
when  the  turbid  thunderin<,'  water  rolls  down  from  llie 
meltinj,'  snow  of  the  Karakorum  and  fills  all  the  valley, 
makin}^  its  way  with  tri-mendou.>  force  to  the  In<lus.  \n 
enormous  blcnk  of  perhaps  70,000  cubic  feet  has  fallen 
down;  it  has  cracked  in  falling,  as  thouf^h  a  j^iant  had  split 
it  with  his  a.\e;  one  fancies  one  can  see  the  gaj)  it  has  left 
on  the  hei^'lits  aljove.  Four  times  the  i)ath  cros.ses  the 
stream,  and  the  rather  narrow  opening;  of  the  Chanj;- 
chenmo  valley  is  left  on  the  rit;ht.  We  encamped  among 
the  dunes  of'  Kaptar-khane.  In  the  night  the  temperature 
fell  to  2.5°. 

The  way  is  terribly  trying,  nothing  but  detritus  and 
blocks  of  grey  granite,  again.st  which  the  horses  wear  out 
their  shfx^s.  Again  we  crossed  the  river  twice  and  set  up 
our  tents  in  the  oasis  Dung-yeilak,  where  a  worn-out 
car.ivan  from  Khotan  had  already  settled,  and  had  sent  a 
messenger  to  Nubra  for  help,  as  several  of  their  horses 
had  foundered. 


MICROtOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  n"a  ISO  I^''  Chart  No    2 


1.0 

1^  12.8 

u;  m 

4 

IIIIM 

2.2 

I.I 

2.0 

1.8 

1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

/1PPLIED  IM/1GE 


■  1 

«     1 

If 


[I 

-      I 

[  I 


^^n 


!  '. 


>) 


il ' 


i    i 


234 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CBAP. 


As  long  as  there  \v;is  pasturage  wc  could  take  matters 
quietly  and  make  short  marches.  Only  too  soon  the  grass 
would  come  to  an  end,  and  then  wc  must  make  more  haste. 
So  wc  rested  a  day  when  the  merchant  Muhamed  Rehim 
from  Khotan  arrived  at  the  oasis  with  his  caravan.  But 
he  only  remained  an  hour,  for  he  wanted  to  reach  warrncr 
regions,  and  was  glad  to  have  the  Karakorum  pass  behind 
him.  He  earnestly  advised  me  to  wait  till  spring,  for  the 
snow  lay  deei)cr  than  usual  on  the  pass.  One  of  his 
caravan  men  also  came  to  me  and  gave  me  a  handful  of 
dried  peaches.  "Does  the  Sahib  remember  me?"  he 
asked.  "Certainly,  you  are  Mollah  Shah."  The  good 
fellow,  now  fiftv->even  years  old,  and  with  his  beard  greyer, 
had  ne\er  visited  his  home  in  Cherchen  again  since  he  had 
left  my  service  in  the  spring  of  1902.  What  a  singular 
wandering  life,  full  of  toil  and  adventure,  these  Asiatics 
lead!  He  imj)lorcd  me  to  engage  him  again,  but  I  told 
him  he  ought  to  be  glad  to  go  down  into  Ladak  instead  of 
returning  to  the  frightful  pass  in  the  middle  of  the  icy 
winter.  It  would  certainly  have  been  pleasant  to  have 
with  me  an  old  tried  companion.  But  no,  he  would  have 
been  out  of  place  in  my  Ladaki  company.  Mollah  Shah 
told  us  for  our  encouragement  that  a  large  caravan  had 
lost  fifty-two  horses  on  the  pass,  and  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  behind  the  greater  part  of  their  goods. 

None  of  my  [)Cople  knew  yet  my  actual  plans.  As 
long  as  we  were  on  the  great  winter  route  to  Eastern 
Turkestan  they  must  all  believe  that  Khotan  was  my 
destination.  We  had  also  the  advantage  that  all  who  met 
us  would  report  in  Ladak  that  they  had  seen  us  on  the 
great  highway,  and  thus  no  suspicion  would  Ix;  aroused. 

Decemlx;r  10.  It  was  colder,  the  minimum  tempera- 
ture being  -  2.4°.  My  Curzon  hat  was  burned  in  the  fire. 
In  its  place  I  put  on  a  large  skin-cap  which  Muhamed 
Isa  had  sewed  together,  and  wound  round  it  a  pugree  as  a 
protection  against  the  sun.  Arms  of  the  river  with  a  gentk 
current  were  coveretl  with  glittering  ice,  but  the  main 
stream,  now  much  smaller,  was  nearly  free.  At  the  camf 
at    Charvak   a    -T-inrr   hro^^k   flashed,    down    the   rocks   in    ? 


h(/ii:;^ 


tinkling  cascade,  though  the  cold  did  all  it  could  to  silenct 


I  "1 


"imm 


» 

'    "^^  1^.:^  \ 

>  •  *^   .•  •  •.,  T 

K   >,..  ^ik^vn- 

- 

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j</>.  jij;.  -"j"^.     Mh   Wniii    I.\ii\ki   I1ok>k. 


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w^'-Mik^^i^^^(2m?m^-mms^-  \mi^^:i:  ^ 


■-■(^:'^'(v^^^  ^ 


'i,.,    -r        ■   ...  ^.-^  -  -    ■-  - 


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vr 


A  NEW  CHAPTER 


235 


it.  The  animals  were  driven  up  the  slopes  whore  the 
grass  was  better.  A  huge  fire  was  lighted  when  the  day 
declined  and  a  narrow  sickle  of  a  moon  stood  in  the  sky. 
Where  the  animals  were  driven  up,  there  was  a  thunder- 
ing fall  of  stones  in  the  night,  and  some  blocks  rolled  down 
and  lav  among  our  tents.     It  was  a  dangerous  place. 

We  had  a  cold  march  on  the  way  to  Yulgunluk.  When 
thick  snow  clouds  cover  the  sky,  the  wind  blows  in  the 
traveller's  face,  and  the  temperature  at  one  o'clock  is  i4-9°' 
one  feels  the  cold  dreadfully,  and  has  to  tie  a  thick  neck- 
cloth over  the  face.  The  valley  is  lifeless  and  deserted. 
Hitherto  we  had  only  seen  a  hare,  an  eagle,  and  a  raven; 
the  last  followed  us  from  camp  to  camp.  Six  times  we 
crossed  the  stream;  the  brown  Puppy  was  carried  over, 
but  the  yellow  dog  found  his  way  across;  he  howled 
piteouslv  whenever  he  had  to  go  into  the  cold  water. 

In  Yulgunluk  also,  at  a  height  of  13,455  feet,  we 
encamped  a  day.  Now  the  thermometer  fell  in  the  night 
to  -6.2°.  This  was  the  last  really  pleasant  and  agreeable 
oasis  we  came  across.  During  the  day  of  rest  we  heard 
the  horses  neighing  with  satisfaction  on  the  pastures 
and  the  sheep  bleating.  The  loads  of  provender  were 
already  smaller,  sf)  we  could  load  four  horses  with  go<xl 
knotty  firewood.  On  the  right  side  of  the  valley  rose  a 
snowy  mountain.  As  early  as  two  o'clock  the  sun  dis- 
appeared, but  it  lighted  up  the  snow  long  after  the  valley 
lay  in  deep  shadow;  th  •  sky  was  blue  and  cloudless.  In 
the  evening  the  men  sang  at  the  fire  just  the  same  melodies 
as  their  predecessors.  The  winter  days  are  short,  but 
they  seem  endlessly  long  to  one  tortured  by  the  uncertainty 
of  his  cherished  hopes.  By  eight  o'clock  the  camp  is  quiet, 
and  at  nine  Gulam  brings  in  the  last  brazier  after  I  have 
read  the  meteorological  instruments.  How  I  long  to  get 
out  of  this  confined  valley  on  to  the  plateau  country !  Here 
we  are  marching  north-north-west,  and  I  ought  to  be  going 
east  and  south-east.  If  we  could  find  a  way  up  to  the 
Chang-tang  by  one  of  the  valleys  to  the  east,  we  should  be 
saved  much  time  and  many  a  weary  step. 

On  December  m  wc  looked  in  vain  for  such  a  way- 
We  crossed  the  river  twice  more  on  its  ice-sheet.     At  the 


I 


\\\ 


236 


TRANS-HnTAI.AYA 


CHAP.    LV 


second  ford  the  wliolc  caravan  passed  over  dry-shod,  and 
only  my  small  white  hor^^e  broke  throuG;h  and  I  wet  my 
feet.  AftiT  a  third  crossing  we  camped  in  a  desolate  spot 
just  opposite  the  Shialiing  valley.  It  looked  promising. 
Tubgcs  and  Kutus  were  sent  uj)  the  valley  to  spy  out  the 
land.  In  the  evening  they  returned  with  the  tidings  that 
we  could  go  a  fairly  long  distance  u[)  the  valley,  but  beyond 
it  became  imixissable  owing  to  deep  basins,  abundant  ice, 
and  large  boulders,  ju.st  as  in  the  Drugub  river.  We 
must  therefore  keep  on  the  route  to  the  Karakorum  pass. 
This  increased  the  risks  for  the  caravan,  for  it  lengthened 
the  distance;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  lessened  the  danger 
of  discovery,  for  when  once  we  had  got  intc;  Tibet  wc  could 
avoid  the  most  northern  nomads. 

Now  Tubges  begged  j)ermission  to  accompany  mc  to 
the  end,  and  his  j)etition  was  eagerly  supported  by  all  the 
other  men.  I  was  the  more  willing  to  take  him  that  he 
was  a  skilled  hunter.  I  had  now  twelve  men,  and  I 
made  the  thirteenth  in  the  caravan.  But  wc  were  not 
superstitious. 


' 


CHAPTER   LVI 


UP  TO  THE   HLIGUTS   OF   DAPS/VNG 

Heavy  clouds  and  piercingly  co'd  wind  increased  the 
flifticulty  of  our  march  on  Decemlx-r  14  up  the  valley. 
We  saw  two  bales  of  gocxls,  sewed  up  in  linen  and  with 
the  stamp  of  a  Turkestan  firm,  lying  on  the  ground,  as 
though  they  had  fallen  from  a  dying  horse,  the  carcase 
of  which  wc  had  passed.  Higher  up  two  more.  They 
contained  silken  materials  from  Khotan.  So  far  the 
caravans  come  with  failing  strength  after  excessive 
exertions  on  the  pa.ss.  They  arc  like  ships  which  mu.st 
throw  their  cargo  overlx)ard  when  they  begin  to  sink. 
At  Koteklik  also  we  f(jund  passable  grass  and  firewood. 
Gulam  is  a  caj)ital  cook;  he  prepares  me  the  most  delicate 
cutlets  and  rissoles,  and  for  a  change  gives  me  chickens 
and  eggs. 

On  the  15th  there  is  little  water  in  the  valley;  it  runs 
under  rubbish,  but  farther  up  the  river  is  again  fresh  and 
clear.  We  frequently  pass  the  remains  of  unfortunate 
caravans,  dead  horses,  bales  of  goods,  and  pack-saddles 
from  which  the  hay  has  been  removed  to  save  the  life  of 
a  djang  horse.  We  travel  west-north-westwards,  and 
therefore  ever  farther  from  our  goal  But  at  length  we 
come  to  a  valley  which  will  lead  us  in  the  right  direction. 
We  leave  the  Sasser  valley  to  the  left  and  enter  a  valley 
portal  full  of  treacherous  ice,  often  as  thin  as  skin.  We 
wait  till  our  scouts  have  tried  the  ice,  which  they  declare 
to  be  impassable.  Tubges,  however,  finds  another,  longer 
way,  over  steep  hills,  and  at  their  f(XJt  we  pitch  our  camp. 

Xext  morning  we  went  over  a  steep  spur  of  porphyry 

237 


1 

* 

1 

!    1 

i.' 


Ill; 

II 
i 


I  '. 


I 


(:,r 


238 


TRAXS-III  MALAYA 


cc 


to  reach  a  l)ctter  i)lafc  on  the  frozen  river  which  was 
afTord  us  an  easterly  passaf,'e  up  to  Murgu.  We  cross 
again  and  again  the  strip  of  ice,  which  was  first  strci 
with  sand  tliat  the  hordes  might  not  break  their  legs, 
usual  two  scouts  went  in  advance.  One  of  them  car 
back  and  called  to  us  from  a  distance  that  a  fallen  ro 
closed  up  the  valley.  C)n  reaching  the  spot  I  found  that 
landslij)  had  lately  taken  j)lace.  The  blocks  of  porphy 
barring  the  channel  were  as  big  as  houses,  and  bctwe 
them  the  river  formed  deep  ba.sins  covered  with  a  th 
coat  of  ice.  We  had  therefore  to  turn  back  and  retra 
our  steps  all  the  way  down  to  camp  No.  279,  over  t 
terrible  rock,  which  on  this  side  was  so  steep  that  ea.' 
animal  had  to  be  shoved  up  separately,  and  the  men  h; 
to  look  out  for  themselves  when  a  pack  got  loose  ai 
rolled  down  the  acclivity.  Then  we  went  some  di.stan 
up  the  Sasser  valley.  .X  strong  icy  wind  blew  in  o 
faces.  Beside  a  wall  of  rock  the  dogs  put  up  a  hare  whi( 
took  refuge  in  a  hole,  but  Kunchuk  pulled  him  out  aga 
and  he  was  condemned  to  be  eaten.  Our  cainp  this  tir 
was  in  an  almost  barren  place,  and  after  all  the  fording 
the  river  during  the  day  icicles  clinked  on  the  flanks  of  o 
wearied  animals. 

It  is  evening  again.  The  mountain  spurs  project,  dai 
and  rugged,  into  the  valley  like  huge  sarcophagi,  and  < 
them  rest  moon-lighted  snowfields  like  shrouds.  Tl 
Ladakis  sing  no  more;  their  ditties  are  frozen  on  the 
lips.  It  is  awfully  cjuiet.  The  kitchen  fire  flickers  wi 
yellowish-red  tongues  in  the  white  moonshine.  One  ci 
almost  hear  the  sound  of  the  frost  outside. 

After  Gulam  has  brought  in  the  last  brazier  I  undre 
myself,  put  on  my  large  woollen  dressing-gown,  set  mysf 
awhile  right  over  the  fire  to  get  a  little  heat  into  my  Ixx 
before  I  creep  into  my  lair  of  fur,  and  smile  to  hear  tl 
yellow  dog,  who  is  lying  outside,  and  barks  and  snarls  ; 
the  increasing  cold  in  the  angriest  and  most  comical  tone 
No  wonder  he  is  enraged,  for  the  thermometer  falls  in  tl 
night  to  —12.8°.  Then  I  hear  a  singular  squeaking 
Oulam's  tent.  We  had  already  anticipated  a  happy  ever 
and  now  i  inquired  whether  there  was  an  addition  to  tl 


CHAP. 


'7/'   li5P5^^^K-->  *• 


% 


'H 


:f 


!i 


I 


■>."■■>? 


%.^K^m. 


LVl 


UP   TO   THK   IIKIGIITS   OF    DAI'SAN'G        2.59 


Puppv  family.  Four  sm.ill  puppifs  had  a^iin  comr  into 
thf  world,  'riicv  had  waited  for  tlu'  very  coldi-s?  night 
\vc  had  vrt  rxpt  rirmnj.  (ailam  had  rontriwd  a  cage  of 
fric/.f  ruKN  in  which  Puppy  lay,  licking  her  young  oiu-.s. 
Two  of  tlu-  tinv  animals  wiTr  of  tht-  fcinalf.  two  of  the 
male  sex;  tlie  former  were  drowned,  for  we  thought  that 
the  others  would  grow  stronger  if  they  monoinili/ed  all 
the  milk  and  heat  that  would  otherwise  have  U-en  divided 
among  four.  I  .sat  hy  the  huteh  and  studieil  the  interesting 
group  till  1  was  so  stilT  with  eold  that  I  could  hardly  walk 
back  to  my  tent.  -Next  morning  the  tiny  (urs  were  going 
on  splendidlv;  one  of  them  whined  in  (juite  the  orthcKJox 
fashion,  and'  no  doubt  thought  what  a  grim  cold  country 
fate  had  launched  him  into.  We  determined  to  take  gcxnl 
care  of  them,  for  thev  would  be  pleasant  comjjanions  for 
me.  Up  here  thev  would  at  any  rate  be  immune  from 
the  .sickness  which  had  carried  olT  their  elder  sisters. 
Kunchuk  had  to  carry  them  against  hi.s  bare  skin  to  keep 
them  warm.  Half  \vay  Mamma  Pujjpy  was  allowed  to 
occupy  herself  for  a  'while  with  her  little  ones,  though 
these  did  not  seem  quite  to  understand  the  milk  business. 

We  had  a  bad  march  on  Decemk-r  17.  Xo  shouts  of 
encouragement  were  heard,  but  the  caravan  moved  on 
slowly  and  apathetically.  Within  half  an  hour  our  feet 
were  benumbed  and  lo.st  all  feeling.  I  wound  the  ends  of 
mv  bashlik  like  a  visor  several  times  round  my  face  u])  to 
the  eyes,  but  the  breath  turned  it  inU;  a  thick  cru.st  of  ice 
which  froze  to  my  moustache  and  Ixard,  which  I  had 
allowed  to  grow  since  leaving  Oartok  to  suit  my  intended 
Mohammedan  disguise.  All  the  men  put  on  their  furs. 
Dust  and  soil  flew  about,  and  our  faces  had  a  smgular 
appearance. 

1  At   a   place   where   a   Yarkand   caravan   was   encamped, 

I  we  turned  to  the  right  up  a  very  narrow  valley,  in  which 
1  the  floor,  covered  with  bright  milky-white  ice.  Ujoked  like 
-  a  marble  j)avement  between  the  rocky  walls.  Fortunately 
.  the  Yarkand  men  had  strewn  sand  over  the  ice,  but  still 
i  it  did  not  prevent  several  of  our  animals  from  falling,  so 
;    that  Ihey  had  to  IjO  ii>a>Ku  aga;::. 

When   wc   at   length   camped    in   Long   the   temperature 


^ 


'!  \ 


!hi 


240 


was 


TRANS  HIMALAYA 

at  /cro  even  at  thr<c  oMuik.     A  >c(< 


imi^l    avoid    alxivc    ivtry 


.Ih 


(if    who-i-    fivt    had    Urn 

s<.   thai    thr    llrsh   and    toes 

» 


\vr|)t 


)nd  lar^c  ^■arkand 
ciravan.  un  thr  homcwanl  jounuy.  was  haUin^;  luTf. 
Tlic  kM(kr^  asked  Us  to  travel  with  tlum  ..v.r  the  Kara- 
korum.  hut  I  refused,  with  the  ex.  Use  that  w.'  ( ould  make 
„m1v  sliort  .hiv's  marches.  (  H.servation  l.y  .my  who  mi^jht 
t,ll'  the  Chinese  in  Varkand  that  I  iia.l  a'^am  |.asse<l  ..ver 
into  'ril)et  was  exaitiy  what  I 
thin^. 

Here    lay    a    iM>or    man.    ih) 
frosl-hilten  'on    tlie    Karakorum 

aduallv  fell  olT.  He  .  rawh'd  u].  to  our  (amp  an. 
over  h'is  disastrous  fate.  He  had  Urn  in^'af^e-l  with  the 
Varkand  earavan  wr  ha<l  met  llrst,  hut  as  he  had  Uromc 
in(ai)al)le  of  work  owin^'  to  his  wounds,  the  barbarous 
merchant  ha.l  -lismissed  him  in  tiie  midst  of  the  wilds  an<l 
left  him  Uhin.l.  In  sueh  a  (ase  it  is  hanl  to  know  what 
to  do  We  eoul.l  not  cure  him,  and  to  lake  him  with  us 
or  «ive  u|.  a  part  of  the  earavan  for  him  was  out  of  the 
(,uesti<.n.  He  said  himself  that  he  would  crawl  to  Shyok, 
hut  how  was  he  to  ^.l  across  the  river?  1  let  him  warm 
himself  at  our  hre,  drink  tea,  an<l  eat,  and  cm  tlu'  iSth, 
when  we  went  on  aftcT  -.f.f  of  frost  in  the  ni-ht,  I  K^'vc 
him  t^iimlni  for  several  <lavs,  matches,  and  a  sum  of  money 
which  woul.l  enable  him  to  hire  a  horse  from  a  caravan 
travellin},'  to  Shyok. 

This  day's  march   took  us   eastwards   to  a   i)lacc   ca  ec 
Hulak    (the'sprin-);    it    should    properly    have    been    callec 
Guristan   (the  Kravevard),  for  he  re  lay  at   least  twenty  dead 
horses      During'  a   ride  of  two  hours   I   had   counted    sixtv- 
thrtr  carcases  of  horses;    it  is  wonderful  that  trade  on  this 
caravan  route,  the  hij^hest  in  the  world,  can  U-  pr..ht:d)le. 

Trom  there  the  route  ran  up  the  narrow  hssured 
Mur'^  vallev,  at  first  up  and  down  over  hills,  where 
numUrs  of  dea.l  horses,  which  ha<l  once  Urn  strong  and 
fat,  showed  us  the  wav.  Then  we  descended  a  break-neck 
,,ath  into  the  deep  vallev.  where  spring  water  at  the 
bottmi  forme<l  cracked  domes  of  icr.  Then  on  the  sh.pes 
of  the  left  tlank  we  climbed  again  up  a  zig/.a-^  path ;  the 
snow  became  deeper  and  was  piled  Uj-,  c-^peciair,-  on 
smooth    that    if    the    horses    had    made    a 


path, 


false 


LVI 


IP   lo  Till-:  iiKic.nrs  of  dai's.wc,      .mi 


strp  uc  shoiilii  have  Ikiii  !<>^t  InvDnil  ninviry.  'I  In- 
laniU(;iln.'  was  maijiiifu  i  iit,  hut  it  (ouM  not  In.'  iiroprrly 
I'DJoyol  win  II  ttu'  tini|uraturi-  alxmt  one  i)"il(Mk  u.is  otily 
o.,^''.  Ami  llun  a^ain  wi'  uint  down  luadlnti^;  to  tlic 
valK'V  Ixittoni,  wlurr  wi'  pa>Mi|  nvtr  a  natural  lirid^'r  of 
nuk  ini|ir<ivi<l  liy  tlii'  liaiid  of  man.  Our  diuction  had 
Ikcii  last,  liut  now  ur  divir^d  niorr  ami  i;iorc  to  the 
north    ami    north  wc^t. 

'llu'  snow  Indiniis  dccpt  r,  tin-  >un  sinks,  tin-  shadows 
(Tiip  up  the  ndili-h  \illo\v  hill>.  tlu'  wind  is  strongrr, 
and  one  thinks:  If  this  la>ts  nnu  h  longer  I  shall  frci/i'. 
At  last  wc  halt  at  the  foot  of  a  tirracr  on  tlu-  ri^dit  side  of 
the  vallry,  where  tlu'  sluij)  are  <lriveti  into  a  lavc  to  keej) 
them  warm  in  t!ie  ni^dit.  I  slip  down  from  the  saddK- 
with  all  mv  limbs  numlxd,  and  lont^  for  a  fire.  Xot  a 
trace  of  orj^anic  life  wa.-.  to  U'  Seen  at  eamp  No.  283. 
The  horses  and  inuks  were  tethered  so  that  they  sttMxl  in 
a    (lose    pack. 

At  this  unlucky  cam])  I  made  the  first  discovery  on 
this  new  journi'y  through  'i'ihet.  AImIuI  Kerim  came  to 
me   at    the    fire   and    said: 

''Sahil),  we  have  barley  for  cij^l.t  to  ten  days  more; 
hut  in  that  time  we  shall  reach  SliahiduUa,  where  we  can 
get  everythini^." 

"Kij^ht  to  ten  days!  Are  you  mad?  Did  you  nf)t 
olx-v  mv  orders?  Did  I  not  tell  vou  e.xpresslv  to  take 
barley  for   2 J   months?" 

"I  brought  a  su[)ply  with  me  which  was  enough  for 
the    journey    to    Khotan." 

"Dill  I  not  tell  you  that  I  was  not  going  to  Khotan 
by  the  ordinary  route,  but  by  roundalx'Ut  ways  which 
would    demand    at    least    two    months?" 

"Ves,  Sahib,  I  have  acted  wrongly,"  answered  the  old 
man  and  U'gan  to  sob.  Alxlul  Kerim  was  an  honest  man, 
but  he  was  stupid,  and  he  had  nc)t  the  great  experience  of 
Muhamed    Isa. 

'■\(»u  are  caravan  bashi,  and  the  duty  of  a  caravan 
leader  is  to  sec  that  th  -re  is  sutTicient  provender  for  the 
journev.  When  the  ten  davs  arc  over,  our  animals  w'jll 
starve.     What  do  you__mean  to  do  then?" 

Vol..    II  K 


i'l 


[■'•  \ 


I 

I  ' 

i  1 


■fh 


242 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


"Sahib,  send  mc  with  some  animals  to  Shahidulla.  I 
can  Ije  back  a-^ain  in  a  fortni.^ht."  .      cu  i,- 

"Y,m  know  that  cvcrvthin^^  that  happens  m  Shahi- 
dulla is  reported  to  the  Amban_  of  Khotan.  1  he  Chmesc 
mu-t  know  nothing  of  our  intentions."  _ 

Mv    first   notion    was   to   dismi>^,   Aixlul    Kerim   at   once 
and  to  write  to  the    Hajji  Xa/er  Shah  for  more  provender 
whieli    mi'^ht   be    brou^m   u],   on   hired    animals      but   wha 
would    thev    think    in    western    Tibet    and    Ladak    if    1    sen 
for    more  "pn'Vcn<Ur    from    Leh    when    I    was    barely    ei-h 
davs'  iournev  from  Shahidulla,  which  lies  on  the  direct  road 
to' Khotan '■'■   Mv   whole   i-Ian   would   Ix-  betrayed   and   must 
fail      I  should  be  stoj.ped   bv  the   first  nomads,  i)erhaps  by 
the  Kn>di^h  whom    I    had    so    hapiiily  escaped    hitherto.     It 
wa^  onfv  necessarv  to  forlu.i    the  natives  to  supply  me  with 
provi>ions  and  ba-ai^e  anim^.b.     And   if  I  procure,    all  we 
\vante<l    in    Shahi<lulla,  the    Amban  of    Kh(;tan    would    send 
word    to    Kash-ar,  whence    a    telegrai.h     line    runs    through 
A.iato    Pekin,' where    Ili>    Kxcellence   Xa   Tang    provec     so 
absolutelv    immovable  when  th.e  Swedish  Mini>ter  W  allenberg 
had   L'iven    hiiiiM  If   s<.   much    trouble   to   obtain   for   rne   per- 
mission   for    a    new    journey    through    Tibet.     L  p    here    in 
this    desolate     vallev     my     position    was    strong.     We     had 
sneaked    quietlv    anri    cautiou>ly    through    British    territory 
without  exciting  suspicion.     But  as  soon   as  we   came  into 
contact  with  the  outer  world  we  shoukl  be  caught. 

I  sat  in  mv  tent  all  the  evening,  considering  the  mattcr 
from  all  -ides'  and  measured  the  distances  on  my  map  with 
c<impa^<es.  We  were  about  100  miles  from  my  camp 
Xo.  8  of  the  preceding  year,  where  the  .U'ra-s  was  so  good. 
So  far  we  could  travel  without  the  le;!,-t  .lifTiculty.  But 
bevond  we  had  4^0  miles  more,  to  the  district  on  the 
T.')n'r-tso.  However,  before  we  came  there  we  must  meet 
with" nomads  and  gra/.ing  lan.l.  The  horses  indeed,  would 
be  lost  l)ut  the  Tibetan  mules  were,  so  Gulam  Razul  sai(b 
accustomed  to  shift  for  themselves,  and  they  were  not 
Ldven  barlev.  The  first  stej)  was  to  reach  the  free  open 
Chang  tang'  and  get  out  of  this  frightful  n]<'"^^'trap^,^  Uie 
Slivok  vallev,  which  wa>  always  taking  us  lurl.icr  n^r.,,^ 
north-west.  'Even    if    we    had    to    sacrifice    everything    and 


''1 


gaf-:, 


ivi         UP   TO    THE    HEIGHTS   oF   i)APSAXG       243 

creep  on  all  fours  to  the  nearest  tent,  I  would  not  <i;ive  in: 
I  would   not  (le])art  a  hair's  hreadth   from  the  original   |)lan. 

Xight  came  with  a  dear  sky,  twinkling  >tars,  and  sharp 
fro>t ;  i)y  nine  o'dock  the  temperature  was  down  to 
—  20.4°.  The  animals  stood  (|uietly  crowded  to,L,ather 
U)  keej)  themselves  warm.  When  I  aw(;ke  occasionally 
I  did  not  hear  them,  and  they  mij,du  have  vanished.  The 
minimum  was  reached  at  -31.-'°.  When  I  was  awakened, 
Kutus  had  been  out  on  the  j)r()wl  into  a  broad  valley, 
cominj,'  in  from  the  east,  and  had  found  a  road  which,  as  far 
as  he  could  see,  was  excellent.  We  had  still  two  days' 
journey  from  camp  Xo.  j8j?  to  tin-  dreaded  Karakorum 
j)ass,  which  I  wished  to  avoid.  If  we  ascended  the  side 
valley  eastwards,  we  should  soon  arrive  at  the  main  crest 
of  the  Karakorum  range  and  Ix'  spared  two  days'  journey. 
I  resolved  to  try  it. 

So  we  travelled  on  December  20  to  the  east  north-east 
over  crunchini^  snow.  The  valley  looked  verv  promising, 
especially  as  old  horse  tracks  could  be  seen  in  some  places. 
In  the  middle  of  the  valley  was  the  bed  of  a  brook  covered 
over  with  smooth  treacherous  ice,  but  elsewhere  there  was 
nothing  but  detritus,  .\fle-  we  had  passed  a  hill  thickly 
overgrown  with  Intrtsr  tufts,  all  vegitation  ceased.  At 
one  o'clock  the  temperature  was  —5.(8°.  Mv  beard  was 
white  with  rime,  my  face-cloth  turned  into  a  mass  of  ice, 
and  all  the  animals  were  v.hite.  For  hours  we  slowly 
mounted  upwards.  In  some  places  the  valley  was  so 
contracted  that  it  was  only  2  yards  broad.  The  best  of 
the  day  was  over  when  the  caravan  suddenly  came  to 
a  halt.  All  was  quiet  in  the  front,  and  I  waited  with 
Kutus    for    whatever    was    to    happen. 

After  a  time  came  Alxiul  Kerim,  much  cast  down,  with 
the  news  that  the  valley  was  im})assable  at  two  j)laces. 
I  went  to  look.  The  first  barrier  of  rocks  might  be  forced, 
but  the  second  was  worse.  We  could  certainly  have 
dragged  the  baggage  over  the  ice  between  and  under  the 
blocks,  but  there  was  no  passiige  for  the  animals.  Should 
we  try  to  make  a  road  along  which  the  animals  could  be 
lulped  over  the  blocks  by  the  united  strength  of  the  men? 
\cs;  but   first  men  must   Ix;   sent  up   to    find   out   whether 


:'«>r  ;fc>i;^;=  ^ :  Jvfcy 


%^^^,ms^ 


«•! 


H 


i 


m 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


firc.     A   nuik-   made  his  way  into 
sonulliini:   edible   in   my   washing- 


244 

there  were  more  of  sueh  harriers  to  cro.s.  When  they 
came  Iwek  with  tlie  news  that  the  way  was  sli  1  worse 
abn-c,  I  gave  orders  t.)  pitdi  the  ram]),  a^  the  shades  ot 
evening    were    faUiiig. 

(]ood  heavens,  what  a  rami.l  Not  a  l>lade  of  grass, 
not  a  drop  of  water!  Again  we  sat  in  a  mousetrap 
Ix'tween  steep  mountain  walls,  where,  at  any  moment, 
devastating  blocks  might  be  detached  from  the  sides  by 
the  frost.'  The  horses  scraped  about  m  the  snow  looking 
for  grass  During  the  night  they  roamed  about,  and 
stumbled  over  the  tent  n.pes.  The  thermometer  fell  to 
-^06°.  One  pui)i)V  lost  his  way.  got  outside,  and  came 
of 'his  own  accord  into  mv  tent;  fortunately  for  him  I  was 
awakened  by  his  whining,  and  gave  him  shelter  in  my  bed, 
where  he  was  warm  and  comfortable. 

A    frosty    morning!     we    mu>t    take    care    not    to    touch 
metal,    for   it    burns   like 

mv   tent   and    looked    for .  - 

basin      To  his  great  astonishment  it  stuck  to  his  nose,  am 
he  took  it  a  few  steps  with  him.     The  hungry  animals  had 
consumed  two  emptv  sacks  and  six  ro])es  during  the  night, 
and     i)laved     the     mischief     with     one     another's     tails.     In 
winter,  life  up  here  is  a  desi)erate  struggle  with  the  frost. 

The  orders  for  the  dav  were  to  encamp  in  a  place 
where  there  were  stalks  of  yapcliau  and  burhc,  and  remain 
there  all  the  next  dav.  I  set  out  at  a  temperature  of 
-23.8°  and  found  the  camp  all  ready  on  the  right  side  ot 
the  vallev.  The  animals  were  immediately  sent  up  the 
sloi)es,  and  there  grazed  with  a  g.xxl  appetite  on  the  dry 
frozen  stalks.  During  the  dav  of  rest,  pieces  of  ice  were 
hewn  out  of  the  brook  and  melted  in  the  two  large  kettles 
of   the   men.     Horses   and    mules   were   then   able   to  drink 

their    till.  •     ,1  „ 

In  the  ni'dit  a  most  welcome  change  took  i)lacc  in  tne 
weather  the  "whole  >kv  was  overcast,  and  the  thermometer 
fell  only  to  1°;  it  felt  (|uite  warm  in  the  morning.  Some 
mules    'had     stampeded.    l:ut     Lobsang    found    them    after 

i-i;,  „t  „„.^r-ii  T  -"♦  ""*  "''h  Kutus  soon  after  the 
a   inhgent   seari.a.     1    .-^ '    -v.... 

caravan.     We   had    not  gone   far  wlien   we   saw    Muhamed 
Isa's  white   Shigatse   horse   lying   frozen    stilT   in    the   snow. 


IVI 


UP   TO   THE    HEIGHTS   OF    DAPSAXG        245 


He  had  btcn  in  a  rctihcd  stati'  for  some  days,  and  the 
last  har(i>hips  had  been  too  much  for  liim.  Worn-out  and 
emaciated,   he   reallv   needed    a    lon.i;,    lonj,'  rest. 

After   a    while    we   jjasscd    the   valley   junction   and    the 
unlucky   camp    Xo.    2.S3.    and    were    again     on    the    great 
caravan    route,    the    road    of    dead    horses.     Four    lay    in^  a 
ravine   fiuite   close   together,    as   though    they   did    not   wish 
to    jiart    even    in    death.     A    large    dapple  grey    showed    no 
change',   l)Ul  another  hor>e  looked  as  if  it  were  stuffed,  and 
a  ihini,  with  its  out.-trelched  legs,  resem!)Ied    an    overtu.ned 
gymnasium    hor^e.     Some    were    nearly    covered    with    snow, 
and  others  had  fallen  in  a  curious  (ramped  j)osition,  but  most 
of  them  lay  as  though  death  had  surprised  them  when  they 
were    composing    themselves    to    rest    after    violent    exertion. 
Nearly   all    were    hollow:     the   hide   was   stretched    over   the 
backbone  and   ribs,  and   they   looked   intact   from  the  back, 
but  on  the  other  -^ide  it  could   W  seen  that  they  were  (jnly 
cmptv,  drv  skeletons,  hard  as  iron,  which  rattled  when  the 
yellow  dog.  who  had  nothing  else  to  eat  on  the  way,  pulled 
them    aVxiut.     The   dogs    barked    at    the    first    carcases,    but 
soon    they  became  familiar  with  the  sight   of    them.     What 
sulTerings     and     what    desperate    struggles     for     life     these 
dreary    mountains    must    ha\e    witnessed    in    the    course    of 
time  f    Lving    awake    at    night    one    fancii'S    one    hears    ihe 
sighs  of  w()rn-f)Ut  i)ack  animals  and   their  laboured   breath- 
ing   as    they    ])atiently    go    towards    their    end,    and    sees 
an   endless  parade  of  veterans  condemned   to  die   who  can 
endure    no   more    in    the   service   of   cruel    man.     When    the 
dogs  bark  outside  in  the  silent  night  they  seem  to  bark  at 
ghosts    and    ai)i)aritions    who    try    with    hesitating    steps    to 
make  their  way  out  of  the  snowfields  that  hoki  them  fast, 
and    intervene    between    them   and    *he    juicy    meadows    of 
Ladak.     If  any  road  in  the  world  deserves  the  name    "Via 
dolorosa,"  it  is  the  caravan  road  over  the   Karakorum  pass 
connecting   Eastern   Turkestan   witli   India.      Like   an   enor- 
mous   bridge    of    sighs    it    sjjans    with    its    airy    arches    the 
l"ighe-l   mountain  land   of  A>ia   and   of  die    world. 

Higlier  and  higher  our  slow  train  a<cends  the  fissured 
vaiiey  where  here  and  there  small  glacier  tongues  iKvp  out 
Ix'tv.een    the    steep    crags.     Frecjuently    old    camping-places 


i 


.x^:''^Si'-:.' 


l!il 


h       ' 


,li- 

N 


I,' I'   '  ' 


ilf'^ 


i^ 


M 


!!! 


ilMiii 


246 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


arc  seen  with  rippcd-up  pack-saddlcs.  Hurricanes  from 
the  south  prevail  here;  fine  red  dust  from  weathered  sand- 
stone flies  Hke  clouds  of  blofxl  through  the  valley  and 
colours  the  snowfields  red.  The  valley  shrinks  to  a  hollow 
way  where  a  somewhat  more  sheltered  spot  Ix'ars  the  name 
"Daulet  liek  uUdi"  (where  Daulet  Bek  died).  Who  was 
he?  Xo  one  knows;  but  the  name  has  remained.  Prob- 
ably an  ordinary  trader  from  Khotan  or  Yarkand,  or  a 
pilgrim  who  died  on  his  wanderings,  and  therefore  found 
the  doors  of  paradise  wide  open.  For  over  the  Karakorum 
pass  runs  the  main  pilgrim  route  from  Eastern  Turkestan 
to  Mecca. 

The  valley  becomes  ever  smaller  —  a  mere  corridor 
Ix'tween  walls  of  red  conglomerate.  This  is  the  Kizil- 
unkur,  or  the  Red  Hole,  an  appropriate  name.  Here  the 
caravan  has  pitched  its  camj).  Not  a  sign  of  organic  life. 
The  animals  stand  in  a  group,  and  the  mules  gnaw  at  the 
frozx-n  dung  of  former  visitors.  From  this  hole  the  way 
rises  up  to  tlie  Dai)sang  plateau,  where  a  snowstorm  is  now 
raging,  and  even  in  the  valley  flakes  of  snow  dance  and 
whirl  in  the  air.  In  the  twilight  Fundup  Sonam  comes 
up  with  only  twelve  sheep;  the  others  have  Ix-cn  frozen  to 
death  on  the  way.  Night  falls  threatening  and  awful  on  the 
everlasting  snow.  Everything  up  here  is  so  dreary  and 
cold  (16,824  feet);  there  is  nothing  living  far  and  wide,  and 
yet  the  yellow  dog  fills  the  ravine  with  his  barking. 

The  men  set  up  the  tents  near  together,  and  a  very 
scanlv  fire  burned  among  them,  for  we  had  to  be  economi- 
cal with  the  firewood  Irom  Koteklik.  The  Mohammedans 
started  a  low  charming  song  in  rising  and  falling  tones, 
and  now  and  then  a  strong  voice  intoned  a  hollow  "Allahu 
ekber."  When  T-ulam  came  with  the  brazier  I  asketl  him 
what  it  meant,  and  he  said  that  it  was  a  uamas  or  hymn 
of  prayer  to  .Mlah,  that  the  Most  High  might  protect  us 
in  the  morning  from  the  snov.-storm.  For  if  a  caravan  is 
caught    in    a    snowstorm    on    the    heights    of    Dapsang    it 

is  lost. 

I  often  heard  this  melo<]ious  hvmn  again  in  days  of 
hardship,  and  it  always  affected  me  painfully.  Not  as  the 
reproachful  warning  clang  of  church  bells  ringing  for  ser- 


LVI 


UP  TO   THE  HEIGHTS   OF   DAPSAXG        247 


vice,  when  I  pass  a  church  door  without  going  in,  but 
because  the  men  sang  the  hymn  only  when  they  were 
out  of  spirits  and  considered  our  position  desperate.  It 
seemed  as  though  they  would  remind  me  that  defeat 
awaited  me,  and  that  this  time  1  had  aimed  too  high. 


CHAPTER   LVII 


M 


i   < 


i! 


••r;i 


i\ 


i  it 


ON'   THE   ROOF   OK   TIIi:   WORLD 

On  Christmas  Eve-   1005  1  had  .lined   nith   Mr.  and   Mrs. 
Grant    Duff    in    the    h()S])ital)lc    iMii^Hsh    I-:ml)assy,    and    on 
another  dav  sui)i)ed  with  Cunt  d'Apchier  in  the  French  Le- 
f^ation,  ami  was  invited  to  a  reception  by  Count  Rex  in  the 
German   Eml)as>v,     -  all  in  Teheran,  now  in  such  a  disturbed 
stale.     The  same  dav  twelve  months  later  I  had    still   Mu- 
hamed  Isa  and    Robert  with  me.  and  we   were  in  inhabited 
countrv.      Little     I     dreamt     now     that     old     Asia     woulcl 
demand    still    anotlvr    Christmas    Eve    in     my     life,     am 
that  on   December    24,    igo8,    I    should    sit    at    table    amid 
a    circle     of    pleasant    and    intelligent    Japanese    in    distant 
Mukden,    where    a    few    vears    before    the    thun.'.ers    of    war 
had   rolled   above   the   j^raves  of  the    Manchunan   emperors. 
But  this   year.    igoy.    I    was   (juite   alone,   and    with   twelve 
satellites  on   the   way  to   my       Ukraine. 

In  the  mornin;4'with  a  bri;j:ht  sun  and  calm  \veather 
the  caravan  marched  slowlv  u])  towards  the  heit:;hts  of 
Daii^anti,  while  Kutus  ami  I  followed  in  the  crunchin.i^ 
snow.  "l  had  i^ivcn  Alxlul  Kerim  orders  to  wait  at  the 
top.  After  I  liad  read  the  instruments  and  found  a  heu^ht 
of  17,808  feet.  I  scoured  'he  horizon  with  my  field -glass — 
a  confusion  of  snowv  mountains.  Only  to  the  north-east 
a    broad    erosion    furrow    .doi)ed    i^ently   down,    and    I    chose 

that  direction. 

"Now    we    leave    the    Karakorum    route    and    ride   cast- 

,     ..     X  •!         ..f    II    ...    .,,..    4 1- .      T     i.;il     i-iM,.    in     front" 

uaiu>,      I   said;       iwiiw-v,    i.i;    u.-.-.  r. ,  •..>    •.■••      ••    -- 

The  men  stared  in  astonishment;    they  had  looked   lorward 
to   the    gardens    ami    vinevards   of    Khotan,    and    I    oifered 

248 


msd 


ru\p    lAil 


OX   THE   ROOF   OF   TIIH   WORLD  249 


thfrn  the  j^Tanitc  and  snowstorms  of  Clian;^  tan^^.  'I'lu-y 
said  nothin-;,  however.  Init  silently  and  patiently  followed 
in  my  footsteps.  It  was  not  easy  to  lead  the  way,  for  the 
country  was  covered  with  deep  snow.  I  directed  Kutus, 
and  he  went  before  my  horse  to  test  the  depth.  The 
j^round  was  quite  level,  lait  contained  hollows  where  the 
snow  lay  7,  to  6  feet  deej);  and  the  cru>t  was  exceed- 
in<'ly  treacherous,  for  sometimes  it  broke,  and  I  was 
thro'wn  out  of  the  saddle,  while  the  horse  plun,-;e(l  and 
Houndered  like  a  doli)hin,  and  was  almost  sulTocated  m  the 
hne  dry  snow.  We  therefore  turned  back  to  try  another 
direction. 

Lobsimt,',  who  was  always  on  the  alert  when  wc-  were 
in  a  critical  situation,  was  already  lookinj^  for  a  better  way. 
Hut  we  must  in  any  case  cross  the  valley,  and  the  men 
trampnl  out  a  furrow  in  the  snow,  throuf^h  which  the 
animals  were  led  one  at  a  time.  The  horses  managed 
best,  while  the  mules  often  fell  and  caused  long  delays. 
How  far  would  this  .snow  extend?  It  checked  our 
progress  and  concealed  any  wretched  pasture  that  might 
exis't  in  some  ravine.  We  crawled  on  like  snails.  I  went 
on  foot,  and  mv  skin  coat  felt  as  heavy  as  lead.  Ikit  after 
several  hours  of  hard  toil  we  reached  the  terrace  skirting 
the  right  side  of  the  valley,  where  the  snow  was  thinner 
and  we  made  more  ])rogress. 

Camp  \o.  287  was  in  the  most  desolate  spot  I  can 
rememlxT  in  all  my  travels,  except  the  simdy  sea  of  the 
Takla-makan  desert.  Behind  us  our  trail  wound  through 
the  white  snow  and  in  front  all  was  snow.  The  animals 
were  tethered  close  together,  and  they  had  a  feed  of  corn 
in  the  evening. 

After  the  dav's  work  was  over  I  lighted  two  candles  — 
usually  I  had  but  one  —  and  set  up  the  portraits  of  my 
familv  on  a  box,  as  I  had  often  done  before  on  Christmas 
Kves'in  Asia.  At  half-past  eight  o'clock  the  moon  rose  glo- 
riously over  the  mountains  to  the  east-north-cast  and  at 
nine  the  thermometer  had  sunk  to  -  16.8°.  I  could  not 
"ct  the  tom.nerature  above  —  4°  in  my  tent,  and  my  hands 
were  so  benumbed  that  I  could  not  hold  a  book,  but 
had  to  crawl  into  bed,  which  wa,s  the  best  thing  to  do — 


^<*-"^f 


-JT  -  -  11^ 


' 

! 

» 

1 

« 

■ 

[1 

V 

1 

I     i  ' 


"Ml 


! 


^i; 


250 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAT. 


A  horse  lay  frozen 
slupcfinl, 


there    one    fori^ets    Chri'^tmas    with    all    its    precious    mem- 
ories   and    its    melancholy    soliluile. 

'The  thermometer  >ank  to  —  ^7.5 
hard  in  his  iilace  in  the  line;  the  others  sto(K 
with  droopini^  heads,  and  .L,'real  icicles  on  their  noses. 
Christmas  i-lve  broii.t^hf  us  j^'ood  weather.  I  almost  lonj^ed 
for  a  snowstorm.  We  had  no  fear  of  pursuit,  hut  if  a 
Turkestan  caravan  now  went  down  to  Kizil-unkur,  the 
men  would  see  our  trail  in  the  snow  and  report  that  we 
were  oil  to  'I'ibet.  A  snowstorm  would  obliterate  all 
traces. 

Meanwhile  we  stumbled  on  eastwards  through  the  snow. 
A  sprin<^  supplied  water  where  all  the  animals  got  a  drink. 
We  halted  in  a  ravine  with  tufts  of  yapchan  (17,087  feet). 
The  animals  made  greedily  for  the  dry  hard  stalks,  which  also 
])rovided  us  with  a  grand  tire,  and  this  evening  it  was  warm 
and  comfortable  in  my  tent.  I  rejoiced  to  think  that  the  days 
would  again  become  longer,  and  subtracted  the  length  of 
each  day's  march  from  the  distance  between  us  and  the 
Tong-tso.  Ah,  would  we  were  there!  And  there  we 
should  be  cjnly  on  the  northern  margin  of  the  blank  space. 
What  an  immensely  long  way  we  had  to  travel ! 

Xe.xt  day  we  followed  the  same  flat  valley  eastwards 
between  mountains  of  moderate  height,  making  use  of  a 
path  worn  down  by  Pantholops  antelopes.  The  snow 
i)ecame  less  dec'i)  and  was  only  occasionally  troublesome, 
usually  covered  with  a  crust  as  dry  as  parchment.  When 
we  had  encamjjcd  in  a  perfectly  barren  spot,  I  consulted 
with  Al)dul  Kerim.  Only  two  sacks  of  bar'ey  were  left. 
I  saw  that  he  haci  been  weeping,  and  t'leretore  I  restrained 
my  wrath.  The  others,  too,  were  astonished  and  doleful. 
I  had  not  yet  .said  anything  to  them,  but  they  understood 
that  there  was  no  question  of  Khotan.  The  men  had 
tsdinba  for  nearly  three  months  and  rice  for  two.  I 
therefore  ordered  that  .some  should  be  given  to  the  horses 
when  the  barley  was  finished,  but  enough  should  be  left 
for  the  men  to  last  two  months.  The  others  gathered 
outsitle  tiic  tent  during  the  consultation.  Lobsang  was 
calm  and  unconcerned,  and  could  be  heard  singing  and 
whistling  as  he  watched  the  animals.     I  took  to  him  mo.st, 


I 


ox   TIIK    ROOr   OF   TIIK   WORM) 


251 


perhaps  iKxausc  he  was  a  Tibetan;  hut  I  liked  them  all, 
for  they  were  cai)ital  fellows.  In  the  evenint,'  they  s;in}^ 
hymns  to  Allah,  knowing;  that  our  situation  was  ex- 
ceedingly critical. 

Xext  day  we  started  early,  ami  I  rode  at  the  head  of 
the  caravan.  We  all  had  severe  headaches,  hut  the  hei>,'ht 
was  enormous  (17,644  feet).  We  liad  marched  little  more 
than  a  mile  whtn  we  fount]  sparse  ^rass  in  a  sli,t,'ht  hollow 
on  the  northein  slopes.  That  was  a  ('hri>tmas  Ixix. 
Here  we  pitched  our  cam]).  The  animals  ran  up  to  the 
pasture  with  their  loads  on.  How  they  ate  I  It  was 
a  pleasure  to  see  them.  Suen  cut  ridiculous  capers 
between  the  tents.  The  men  were  in  hi<.,'h  spirits.  I 
heard  no  more  hymns  to  Allah,  but  the  caravan  bashi,  who 
seemed  to  think  he  was  in  some  de;,'ree  responsililc  for  the 
.'Spiritual  welfare  of  all  the  Mohammedans,  usually  read 
every  eveninj^  at  sunset  one  of  the  live  daily  prayers. 
Our  supply  of  fuel  was  at  an  end,  but  Lobsang  found  a 
hard  moss  which  burned  for  a  lonj^  time  and  gave  out 
plenty  of  heat.  Xow  I  perceived  that  when  we  should 
some  time  part,  I  should  miss  Lobsaii;^  most. 

On  December  28,  leaden  clouds  lay  over  the  earth,  and 
therefore  the  cold  was  less  severe.  We  continued  our 
cour'^e  eastwards,  and  marched  slowly  till  we  came  to  a 
sprinf^,  which  at  the  orifice  had  a  temperature  of  33.6°. 
The  water  felt  quite  warm ;  it  formed  large  cakes  of  ice  in 
the  flat  valley,  which  looked  from  a  distance  like  a  lake. 
While  the  men  set  up  the  tents  here,  Puppy,  as  usual, 
took  charge  of  her  young  ones  in  a  folded  piece  of  felt. 
One  of  them  had  a  white  spot  on  the  forehead  and  was 
my  especial  favourite,  for  he  never  whined  unnecessarily. 
To-day  he  had  opened  his  eyes  and  given  a  short  glance 
at  the  cold  inhosjjitable  world  around  him.  However, 
before  my  tent  was  ready,  he  (!ied  quite  suddenly,  and  was 
buried  under  some  stones  that  the  yellow  fhig  might  not 
cat  him  up.  Mamma  Puppy  looked  for  him,  but  soon 
contented  herself  with  the  last  of  the  four.  We  would  do 
all  we  could  to  keep  this  little  creature. 

On  the  way  to  the  next  cainj^ing  place,  No.  2Q2,  v.x- 
Still   followed   the   same   blessed   vallev   which   had    atTorded 


u 

n 

1 

:  1 

• 

1 

• 

1 

IM^. 


:^Pi 


ill 


252 


'IRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


US  ^u(h  an  excellent  route  -inte  Christmas  F.ve.  The 
minimum  temperature  had  falli  n  to  -ii.H",  a's  thoufjh  a 
cold  wave  were  pa-Miv^'  over  the  country.  At  one  l)lace 
Sf)mf  wild  vak>  had  Kit  tiieir  vi^tini:  canU,  ami  the  men 
collected  asaek  of  <hin,u.  l.vidently  tlu-u  aninial>  come 
hither  onlv  in  summer;  the  winter  is  too  cold  even  for 
them.  A  mule  died  before  wi-  reached  a  si)rin,L,'  surrounded 
1)V  fair  <ira/.inj,'.  So  far  we  had  ,uot  on  well,  liut  liad  made 
little  progress;  on  the  iia>t  six  days  we  had  covered  only 
47    miles. 

Dieemher  ,p.  With  a  minimum  of  zero  and  a  tempera- 
ture at  one  o'clock  of  .^2°  the  ranije  between  day  and  nii^dit 
is  not  j^reat.  But  now  the  sky  was  covered  with  dense 
clouds;  It  snowed  and  became  half  dark ;  the  men  could  not 
tell  in  which  direction  they  were  marchinj,'.  and  asked  where 
the  sun  rose.  We  had  the  help  of  the  lon,v;itudinal  valley 
for  another  dav's  journey,  and  we  followi-d  it  down  t()  a 
junction  of  vallevs  where  there  was  a  hu.^e  sheet  of  ice. 
On  the  way  I  saw  a  llock  of  twenty-two  wild  sheep,  which 
fled  with  fi'reat  ability  up  a  slope  of  detritus,  bringing  the 
stones  rattling  down. 

In  the  evening  I  informed  Alxlul  Kerim,  Gulam,  and 
Kutus  that  we  were  to  advance  into  TilK^t  and  steer  our 
course  past  the  Arjiort-tso  to  the  upper  Brahmaputra. 
And  1  told  them  that  I  should  travel  in  disguise  in  order 
to  escape  notice.  They  were  amazed,  and  asked  if  I  ihould 
not  expose  mv  life  to  danger  daily;  but  I  calmed  them, 
saying  that  rll'  would  go  well  if  they  only  obeyed  my  orders 
iniplicitly.  Our  chief  concern  was  to  j)reserve  our  animals, 
for  if  the  caravan  were  lost  we  shf)uld  never  get  on. 
"Yes."  answered  the  caravan  bashi,  "if  we  only  find  good 
pasture,  so  that  the  animals  can  rest  and  eat  their  fill,  we 
can  certainly  hold  out  fcjr  two  months,  but  they  will  not 
bear  long   marches." 

Here  we  stood  at  a  parting  of  the  roads.  Our  valley 
opened  into  another,  which  came  clown  from  high  mountains 
in  the  south,  part  of  the  Karakorum  range.  The  united 
stream.s  ronfinued  their  course  northwards,  and  could  not 
be  anv  other  river  Imt  the  upper  course  of  the  Karakash 
Darya';    in  its  lower  valley  on  the   Khotan   Darya   I   had 


LVII 


()\    rilK    ROOK   OF    i'llK    Wokl.l) 


-•=;3 


many  viats  Ixfori'  alnio-t  |n>t  my  life  Now  the  (|U(>ti<in 
was  wlutlur  wc  >hi.uM  .U'l  ii|)  <»r  (K.wii,  and  uc  tltiidi'l  to 
(Uvotr  the  la-t  day  <if  llir  vtar  to  lindiiit:  out  .vliicli  was 
thf  I'ltlrr  load,  -iiidin'4  out  Alxlullali  lo  n coniioitrc  -outh 
ia>t\vard-,  Tuli^r^  north  (■a>t\\ard>.  .\>  in  aiiv  ( a-i-  wr 
should   liavf   to  ini-s  tlu-   'n\-  sluit,   a   patli   ua-   -anditi. 

\\i-  iia(ki(l  \\'.c  ')OO0  ruiuts  Colotul  Dunlop  Smith 
had  MHt  from  India  in  two  .su  ks.  v.hich  wirt-  hj^htt  r  than 
thf  uoodin  Imixcn,  ami  tlu>e  were  to  U-  u-id  a>  firiwoinl 
-omctimr  whin  all  iNc  failrd.  At  cwry  (amj)  our  l)anKagf 
Ik  ( ami'  li,i:htir,  a-,  our  priAi-ion^  (liminislud,  and  I  threw 
away  one  hook  after  another  after  I  had  read  them.  I  had 
rice'ived  from  home  the  numhir^  of  a  Swcdi>h  journal  for 
hall  a  viar,  an.l  the-e  were  very  u^-ful  in  li^htin-,'  our 
camp  firls.  We  had  still  nine  s'hetp  left,  hut  the  time 
\\.i>  fa>t  ai.]>roaehin^'  when  our  meat  supply  would  come 
to    an    end,    for    we   eould    hardly    reckon    on    fmdin-^    },'amc 

M)      soon. 

New   \'ear"s   Dav    igoS  was  hri^ht  and   sunny-    a  j^oo'l 
oiiun  as  re^'arded  tlie  dark  riddles  this  year  Kmcealed.     'I"he 
two  >eouts  returneil   with   the  same  report:    that    there   wjTc 
no  olistades  in  the  way;   and  I  let  them  di>euss  the  (luestion 
themselves,    and    di'dcje    which    way    was    the    l)e>t.     Tliey 
cho>e    Alxlullah's    route,    which    lei'l    up    the    valli'y    south- 
ea>tward>.     The    road    heri'    was    excellent.     At    the    mouth 
of  the  valley  we  found  a  coujile  of  >mall  round  stone  walls, 
which,    however,    mi^hl    very    well    have    heen    a    hundml 
years   old.     The    si.^ht   of   a    dead    yak    had    an    enlivening 
effect  on   us,   contradictory   as   it    may    r<ound.      Higher    \ve 
mounted    to    where    a    lofty    snow    mountain    with    glaciers 
could  be  seen  at  the  end  of  the  valley.     Then  we  stop[)cd, 
and    scouts    were    sent    forwards.     They    declared    that   the 
wav  was    im])assable,   and    voted    that   Alxlullah   should   he 
thrashed.     Hut    as   such    measures    would    have    been    of    iio 
use  to  us  in  our  difficulty,  he  g(jt  off  with  a  go<Kl  scolding. 
He  admitted  that  he  had   not   been  so  far  up   as  we  were 
now,  yet  on  his  return  he  had  asked  for,  and  been  given,  a 
bit  of'  tobacco  for  his  reconnoitring  work.     I  told   him  that 
he  had  done  a  nieun  uick,  and  that  he  sliuuld  never  sec  the 
smoke  of  my  tobacco  again. 


m^ 


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m 


25 » 


TRANS  11 1  MAI. A VA 


CHAP. 


Tlurr  wa-^  nothing  to  <i<)  Init  piith  our  camp.  A  strong 
>()Utli  \vi-~t  wiivl  l)lr\v,  and  fiiu'  miow  was  driven  down  from 
all  tlif  (tcst^  and  Mimmits.  When  tlu-  mtn  went  out  to 
^MtlkT  fuel  thcv  looked  like  Polar  e\i)lorers.  .After  all, 
.\e\v  Year's  Dav  had  liroui^ht  u>  no  gofHl  luek,  hut,  on  the 
Ktntrarv,    a    nireat. 

'I'liis  was  eomnuneed  early  on  the  morning  of  January 
2,  and  we  pas^id  a^ain  eamj)  29.V  ^i"''  marehed  onwards 
over  ^<lo|)es  of  ditritus  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  ice  sheet. 
At  one  si)ot  si)rin^  water  formed  a  littl-  liuhliliiij^  fountain 
in  the  midst  of  tlie  iee.  After  the  valley  had  turned  to  the 
east  north-east  we  eneatni)ed  in  a  corner  where  driftsand 
was  piled  uj)  into  hillocks. 

I  wanted  to  ^et  out  of  this  labyrinth  of  mountains  and 
vallevs  whi(  h  ])our  their  waters  into  Eastern  Turkestan. 
We  were  still  in  the  basin  of  tlie  Karakash  river,  and  must 
sooner  or  later  cross  a  pass  separatin^^  it  from  the  salt  lakes 
of  the  Chanty  tan^.  On  the  ^rd  we  aj^ain  mounted  up  one 
of  the  head  valleys  and  camped  in  its  upper  part,  while  the 
country  was  envelojjed  in  a  furious  snowstorm.  It  con- 
tinued till  late  in  the  evening,  and  what  was  most  remark- 
able was  that  the  sta'-s  shone  all  the  time  though  the  snow 
was  falling  thickly.  Before,  there  had  K-en  blue-black 
clouds  above  us  w'ithout  a  snowllake.     K.xtraordinary  land  ! 

.\e.\l  day  we  rested.  The  animals  had  l)een  without 
drink  for  a'  long  time,  fuel  was  alnmdant,  ice  was  taken 
from  the  river  Ud  ami   melted   in  j)ots. 

In  this  region  the  mountains  are  less  continuous,  and 
form  sharp  ])eaks  and  ])yramids  of  small  relative  height. 
It  snowed  all  night,  but  the  morning  of  January  5  was 
fme  as  we  travelled  eastwartls  along  the  route  Kutus  had 
invi'stigated.  It  led  up  over  snow-covered  ground  to  a 
small  i)ass  (17.005  feet),  on  the  other  side  of  which  another 
branch  of  the  Karakash  crossed  our  course.  We  must  get 
out  of  this  entanglement,  which  delayed  our  march  and 
lold  on  our  strength.  .\s  long  as  the  animals  kept  up  we 
had  nothing  to  com])lain  of.  I  was  glad  of  every  day  that 
!)r()UL'ht  us  a  little  n<'arer  to  spring  and  out  of  the  winter's 
cold."  It  penetrated  through  everything.  My  feet  had  no 
feeling  in  them.     Gulam  rublx-d  them  and  massaged  me  in 


^:^;^?vP:iii^V?>-':/^S 


Lvii 


ON   rnK  ROOF  OF  Tin-:  would 


^55 


the  cvcnin}^  ovor  the  fin-,  but  could  not  brini^  tlum  to  lifr. 
'I'ho  ink  was  turmd  into  a  lump  of  iic  an<l  hail  to  U* 
tha\vi'(l  iK-fori'  tlu'  lirr;  whrn  1  wroti"  I  hail  to  Innil  owr 
thr  bra/icr,  and  ^till  tlu-  ink  coni^tak-d  in  tin-  pin  and  fro/.o 
on  thf  j)ap<r.  Sin^'ularly  cnou;;h  I  have  still  an  un(jUin(  li- 
able (loin-  for  ire  coM  water  and  prtfir  it  to  warm  tea,  but 
thr  watir  we  usually  f^ct  is  far  from  pUa^ant.  It  i^  j^'inc-rally 
Tubj^i's  who  takes  a  s])ade  and  lilU  an  impty  >.i(k  with 
snow,  and  then  milt->  it  in  a  kettle,  (iulani  triis  to  per- 
suade me  to  drink  tea,  and  cannot  understan<l  how  it  is 
that  I  am  not  sick  of  water.  It  is  no  u>e  Ixin^  thir^^ty  in 
the  night :  a  cup  of  wati  r  standing  m  ar  the  bra/.icr  is 
frozen  to  the  Ixittoni  in  a  (juarter  of  an  hour. 

After  a  teni|>erature  of  jS°  and  a  >tormy  night,  which 
drove  the  anirruds  to  seik  shelter  in  the  men's  tent,  we 
crosM'd  the  broad  valley  up  to  the  next  pass.  We  left  a 
lofty  snow  covered  mountain  to  the  south.  At  the  foot  of 
a  hill  a  wild  yak  was  musing.  When  he  >aw  our  dark 
train  against  the  white  snow  he  made  straight  towards  us, 
but  Ufore  long  he  took  his  way  through  the  valley  and 
(lashed  in  wild  (light  to  the  north,  followed  by  our  two  dogs. 
It  was  very  encouraging  to  find  something  living  in  this 
(ifxl-forgotten  wilderness;  for  now  we  had  lost  even  the 
raven. 

It  was  a  steep  and  slow  ascent  up  to  the  pass,  which 
had  a  height  of  1S.005  feet.  We  were  surprised  to  Imd  that 
it  was  a  snow  limit,  for  east  of  the  pass  there  was  no 
snow  Jit  all.  .As  we  descended  the  other  side  along  a 
broad  open  sandy  valley  we  had  t(^  Ix-  careful  that  we  did 
not  find  ourselves  without  water  in  the  evening.  F'ar  to 
the  south  appeared  an  ice  sheet,  but  it  lay  too  far  out 
of  our  course.  We  therefore  filled  two  sacks  with  snow 
from  the  last  drift,  encamped  where  thin  tufts  atTorded 
fuel,  and  sent  five  men  with  all  the  animals  southwards  to 
the  ice  in  search  of  water  and   fodder. 

The  water  question  now  Ix'came  [)ressing,  for  apparently 
we  could  not  count  on  snow  much  farther.  And  we 
could  not  dig  for  water,  as  Ixfore,  for  the  ground  was 
iro;-;r!i  ifito  stone.  We  riiU^t  therefore  proceed  cautiou>iv. 
We  had  a  great  open  wilderness  in  'ront  of  us;    we  must 


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256  TR.\XS-IIIMALAVA  chap. 

make  our  wav  from  one  ])oint  of  supjiort  to  another,  and 
fxiilorc  the  routis  in  advance,  lest  we  might  come  to  a 
catastrophe.  I  therefore  gave  orders  that,  now  that  the 
loads  were  C()n>ideraltly  >inaller,  a  coujilt'  of  our  animals 
should  (arrv  snow  or  iie.  At  evcTV  canij)  we  left  an 
emi)ty  meat-'lin.  I  think  less  of  the  time  soon  aiijmuiching 
when  the  evciUent  goods  from  Simla  v.ill  come  to  an 
end  than  of  the  fact  that  the  i>urdens  of  our  animals  arc 
daily  becoming  lighter.  '!'he  rock  specimens  I  collect 
do  not  weigh  mu(h.  Of  cour.-.e  the  i)rovender  has  long 
given  out,  hut  where  the  ])asturage  is  stanty  or  altogether 
absent,  loaves  of  parched  meal  are  kneaded  together  for 
the  animals. 

The  men  are  to  come  back  on  the  7th,  and  we  wait 
for  them  till  midday.  There,  too,  they  come:  the  black 
group  is  i>lainly  vi.Mb'le;  they  march  and  march,  but  come 
no  ntarer.  .\h,  it  is  only  some  black  stones  dancing  in 
the  niiragt'.  A  little  later  Suen  reports  that  M»me  of  the 
animals  have  run  away,  and  conse<iuently  we  have  to 
remain    the    whole  day    at    this   dismal    camp. 

H(jw  slowly  the  hours  pass  on  a  day  like  this  I  I  am 
a  prisoner  in  my  own  tent,  for  cold  and  wind  keep  me 
from  work  out  of  doors.  As  long  as  the  sun  is  alK)ve  the 
horizon  I  jiass  the  time  very  comfortably,  for  I  can  sec  the 
mountains,  the.se  silent,  dreary,  lonely  mountains,  where 
men  never  wander,  and  I  .see  the  sarulspouts  whirling 
along  before  the  wind.  Hut  when  the  sun  sets,  the  long 
winter  evening  begins,  and  I  hear  only  the  howl  of  the 
.storm  without.  I'atience !  Spring  will  come  .sometime. 
livery  dav  that  passes  wo  are  a  stej)  farther  from  this 
horrible  winter.  Brown  Pupj)y  and  her  whelp  keep  me 
companv,  and  I  look  upon  them  as  comraflcs  in  misfortune. 
She  has  her  mat  in  a  corner  of  the  tent,  and  takes  her 
meals  when  I  do.  The  whelp  we  call  Black  Puppy  amuses 
me  immen-.ely.  He  has  begun  to  take  notice  of  the  world 
and  the  life  around  him.  When  the  big  dogs  bark  outside 
the  tent,  he  turn.-,  his  head  and  gives  a  feeble  growl. 
When  his  mother  leaves  him  on  the  mat  in  the  cold,  he 
m:>l;!>>;  :!!■>  nt'cniMt  :!!  a  ].>ark  and  seems  to  think  it  strange. 
He   wanders  about  the  tent,  though   he  is  still   .so  unsteady 


m^mmw^^mm^^'m^^ 


m 


ox   THE    ROOr   OF   THE   WORLD 


257 


on  his  legs  that  he  constantly  topples  over.  lie  has 
already  conceived  a  highly  salutary  respect  for  the  brazier, 
and  snifTs  and  shakes  his  head  when  he  chances  to  come 
t<jo  near  it.  Sometimes  it  happens  that  he  misses  his 
mother  in  the  night,  when  there  may  be  as  many  as 
!;4  degrees  of  frost  in  the  tent;  but  his  complaining  squeal 
awakens  me,  and  I  take  him  under  the  furs  —  an  attention 
he  is  very  fond  of.  One  morning  lie  wakened  me  by 
crawling  of  his  own  accord  on  :.)  my  pillow  and  trying  to 
got  into  my  bed.  After  that  I  felt  no  concern  about  his 
future;  he  must  learn  how  to  make  his  way  in  life,  and 
that    he    was    doing. 

On  the  8th  wc  went  over  a  small  pass  17.569  feet  high. 
A  horse  and  a  mule  j^crished  on  the  way.  Camp  299  was 
pitched  where  the  first  {)asture  was  found,  in  a  va'ley  on 
the  other  side  (16,946  feet).  There  was  no  water,  but  wc 
had  four  sacks  of  ice  Seven  sheep  were  left,  and  the 
raven    had  also  come  again 

The  aim  of  our  ne.xl  day's  journey  was  to  find  water 
for  the  animals.  My  trusty  white  Ladaki  horse,  which  I 
always  rode,  used  to  get  my  washing  water  every  morning, 
and  I  uscvl  no  soap  that  I  might  not  spoil  it  for  him. 
rVom  a  small  ri.se  in  the  ground  we  were  able  to  enjoy 
the  view  I  had  .so  longed  for  —  the  great  o[)en  plain  we 
had  crossed  in  the  autumn  of  1906.  To  the  east-.south- 
ea>t  I  ea.sily  recognized  the  sf)ur  wc  [)as.sc'd  then,  and 
wc  coul('  not  be  more  than  two  days'  march  from  the 
.\ksai-chin  lake.  I  had  now  followed  for  several  ('ays 
much  the  same  route  as  Crosby,  and  at  the  lake  I  should 
cross  my  own  route  of  1906,  after  wliich  we  .should  go 
down  towards  the  Arport-t.so,  and,  as  last  year,  intersect 
the   paths   of    Bcnver,    Dea.sy,    Rawling.    and    Zugmeycr. 

The  whole  country  lay  under  a  vault  of  dense  clouds. 
After  a  march  of  only  3  miles  we  found  a  flowing  spring  of 
beautiful  water  (2,^,°),  where  camp  \o.  300  (16,329  feet)  was 
f>itched.  In  the  evening  my  servants  sang  bright  and  happy 
melodies  again,  and  Suen  pcrformerl  his  most  ridiculous 
dances.     We  were  again  up  on  the  rfK)f  of  the  world,  and 

..11      .1 T^.'U.i      I -V       f-      r-i  1"      •■-  C!-       ■■'    !       ^-       -Ll_       .. 

a::    •;;-...;;;,      iiwCt    u:;,     iVi    iiwHt    :;:     Ui.       oiiUUiv.i     .1  e    Ije    ilOie    to 

cross  it  with  our  little  caravan  ? 

VOL.   II  g 


CHAPTER  LVm 


FORTY  DEGREES  BELOW  ZERO 


;! 


With  fresh  blocks  of  ice  in  our  sacks  \vc  set  out  on 
January  lo  strait^Iit  towards  the  i)rojecti<)n  at  the  foot  of 
wliich  cam])  8  had  been  phched,  and  where  I  knew  that  the 
grass  was  t^ood.  The  ;^'reat  level  barren  plain  stretched 
lu'tween  u-  and  the  spot,  and  ..e  had  15  miles  to  cover. 
The  wind  was  ljv)i>terous,  and  we  were  frozen  through 
in  a  minute.  In  the  lee  of  tiie  caravan,  which  went  in 
advance,  lay  a  cloud  of  dust  like  smoke.  The  yellow  hue 
of  the  grass  could  be  .-^een  from  a  distance,  and  the  sight 
.so  refreshed  my  men  that  they  began  to  .sing  on  the 
march.  The  animals  understood  that  they  were  coming 
to  good  ])asturage,  and  fjuickened  their  pace  without  any 
.shouts  from  the  men.  The  tents  v.-cre  .set  up  in  the  same 
place  as  la.st  year,  and  here  I  closed  my  long  circuitous 
route  through  Tibet.  It  was  with  a  melancholy  feeling  I 
.saw  this  j)lace  again,  where  Muhamed  I.sa  had  rai.sed  his 
tall  cairn.  Xow  wc  had  avoided  all  dangers  from  Rudok, 
and  we  mindecl  little  that  England  and  Russia  had 
promised  each  other  not  to  let  a  European  into  Tibet  for 
three  years.     The  height  here  was   16.19S  feet. 

For  several  days  I  had  spoken  of  this  f)lace  with  its 
good  j)asturage,  and  when  we  broke  u]i  our  camp  on  the 
nth  I  was  able  to  promise  my  men  a  still  better  camp  for 
the  next  night.  Th.ey  were  astonished  that  I  was  so 
much  at  home  in  these  dreary  regions.  The  track  of  the 
great   caravan   of    i()o6  was  blown   away  by   the  passage  of 

.  1     ...  .1-  \1  •  1.:„  11.  ' „  ,....^n  '.nt^ 

ill.:;;',      r-mi :;;:.,      ;:ii;      ;;n.-     .\^:x!i  i  ;;:;i      ;.iur     .-i.-wn     ic:i::v     ii:t.-.> 

sight,    its    surface    looking    grey    and    dismal    in    the    chilly 

358 


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cHAP.Lviii     FORTY   DEGREES   BELOW  ZERO 


259 


weather.  Six  kiang  spoors  converged  to  the  fine  spring 
of  fresh  water  near  the  shore,  where  we  kindled  our  fires 
among  the  same  stones  as  hist  time.  Pasturage  and  fuel 
are  abundant  in  the  neighiiourhood  ;  it  is  a  veritable  oa.sis 
—  the  be.st  camp  we  had  had  since  Koteklik.  Hut  the 
storm  still  raged,  and  the  salt  waves  rose  high  over  the 
lake,  cooled  down  to  20.7°,  though  there  was  no  sign  of 
ice.  In  the  night  it  snowed  hard  again,  :'nd  on  the  12th, 
which  was  made  a  day  of  rest,  the  lake  lay  blue  amidst  a 
landscape  of  shining  white  (16.171  feet). 

When  all  goes  well  the  Mohammedans  read  no  prayers. 
Probably  they  think  that  wlien  we  can  help  ourselves  it  is 
unnecessary  to  di.sturb  Allah. 

We  had  to  pay  a  horse  as  toll  for  the  good  pasturage. 
He  lay  frozen  hard  in  the  camp  on  the  morning  of  the 
13th,  after  a  night  temperature  r'  —18.4°.  The  yellow 
dog  remained  beside  him,  and  when  he  came  late  at  night 
into  the  ne.xt  camp,  he  was  so  fat  and  putTed  up  that  it 
was  evident  he  had  stored  up  fo<xl  for  several  days.  Two 
ravens  followed  us  with  their  hoarse  croaking.  Snow  fell 
thickly  and  hid  the  view.  A  herd  of  antelopes  flisappeared 
like  shadows  in  the  mist.  A  sheep  died  on  the  way,  and 
two  more  had  to  Ix:  killed,  for  they  were  worn  out;  we 
had  now  only  three  left.  The  cold  penetrated  everywhere 
in  the  night,  and  'he  thermometer  sank  to  —T,f. 

On  January  14  we  made  south-eastwards  over  a  plain 
of  soft,  tiring  ground,  which  caused  us  the  loss  of  a  mule. 
The  caravan  moved  very  slowly  forward  and  in  close 
order;  the  animals  marched  more  comfortably  when  they 
were  together;  those  which  would  linger  behind,  overcome 
with  fatigue,  were  driven  forwards  'ly  the  Ladakis.  At 
camp  304  the  grass  was  poor,  and  two  mules  seemed  to 
Ijc  near  their  end.  The  cold  was  fearfully  .sharp  in  the 
night.  The  thermometer  fell  to  —39.6°,  or  nearly  to  40 
degrees  below  zero,  and  almost  to  the  freezing-point  of 
mercury.  That  was  the  lowest  temperature  I  ever 
recorded  in  all  my  journeys  in  Asia. 

But  January  15  brought  a  fine  morning  and  an  Italian 
blue  "sky.  Alxiul  Ktrim  and  ail  llie  (jIIh  1  Mcjhaininedaiis 
waited    on    me,    in    a    tragi-comical    procession,    with    dried 


i 


•f 


26o 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


apricots  and  almonds,  and  a  simultaneous  cry  of  "Aid 
mubarck,"  (ir  "A  hk'sscd  Festival."  One  uf  the  festivals 
of  Islam  fell  on  this  day.  K.xeeedingly  comical  was  the 
procession  of  the  four  Lamaists,  who  came  u\)  as  the  others 
retired;  and  Lobsan^'.  who  led  them,  took  off  his  cap  and 
scratched  his  hiad  in  'I'ibetan  fashion,  but  did  not  init  out 
his  tongue  he  had  no  doubt  learned  in  Leh  that  this  per- 
formance was  not  i)leasinf^  to  a  European.  I  gave  them 
lo  rupees  each  and  handed  the  caravan  bashi  a  walch,  which 
he  was  to  wind  up  well  every  evening  to  be  sure  of  the  time. 

On  we  marched  again,  moving  slowly,  f(jr  the  ground 
rose.  We  jiroceeded  like  a  funeral  procession,  and  Suen 
was  the  parson.  There  was  no  longer  reason  to  fear 
thirst,  for  half  tlie  country  was  covered  with  snow.  Hut 
every  mile  cause<l  us  a  struggle,  and  it  was  long  before  we 
came  to  the  cliff  we  were  making  for.  We  left  a  huge 
snowy  massive  on  the  right  hand. 

Xe.xt  day's  march  took  us  over  a  flat  saddle  to  a  small 
side  vallev  'where  there  was  .some  grass.  The  temperature 
had  been  down  to  -29.9°.  and  I  coukl  not  by  anv  means  get 
life  into  my  feet.  Sometimes  they  ached,  sometimes  there 
was  an  uncomfortable  ])ricking  in  my  toes,  and  then  again 
they  lo.st  all  feeling.  During  the  day's  re.st  we  allowed 
ourselves  in  camj)  306  Tubges  shot  an  antelope  and  an 
Ovis  Ammon,  a  feat  which  prolonged  the  lives  of  our  last 
two  sheep.  In  the  evening  the  men  were  cheerful  and 
hopeful  as  thev  sat  around  the  flesh-pot. 

Gulam  Razul  had  presented  me  with  six  1x)ttlcs  of 
whiskv,  which,  sewed  up  in  thick  felt,  had  Ix-en  brought 
all  the  wav;  for  Ladakis  maintain  that  wlicn  a  mule  shows 
signs  of  exhaustion  and  weakness  it  can  be  cured  by  ginng 
it'  whisky  or  other  spirits.  But  the  bottles  were  heavy, 
so  three  of  them  were  emptied  and  set  up  as  a  memorial 
on  some  stones.  Perhaps  sometime  or  other  they  may  be 
found  bv  another  traveller.     The  other  three  were  kept. 

On  the  1 8th  we  continued  to  follow  the  same  longi- 
tudinal vallev.  All  the  ranges  in  this  country  run  east 
and  west,  the  u.sual  direction  in  Tibet.  To  the  right  was 
a  lofty  range  we  must  cross  if  we  would  tra\el  south-east- 
wards'.   Through    a    gap    in    the    northern    mountains   was 


LVIII 


FORTY  DEGRKKS  BELOW  ZERO 


261 


visible  to  the  north-cast  the  mit,'h,y  snowy  dome  we  had 
passed  to  the  rif^ht  of  in  1Q06.  Eastwards  there  seemed 
to  be  no  ol)stacle  in  the  way,  but  we  (hverj^ed  soutl)-east- 
wards  up  a  valley.  Before  we  encamped  (Illustrations 
301,  ^o())  another  mule  had  fallen,  and  then  we  had  lost 
a  fourth  of  the  caravan. 

Next  day  we  proceeded  further  up  the  valley.  Some- 
times it  was  only  10  yards  broad  between  solid  hf)rizontal 
terraces.  Below  a  steep  cra<:^  lay  five  pot-stones,  and 
therefore  Tibetan  hunters  must  ha--e  come  thus  far.  The 
Ladakis  were  delit,'hted  to  meet  with  si^ns  of  human 
beinj^s  ai,'ain.  The  valley  o])ened  out  into  an  extensive 
l)lain,  and  a  gap  was  seen  to  the  scjuUi-east,  but  as  the 
ground  was  lower  towards  tiie  east  we  turned  our  steps  in 
that  direction.  Erom  the  low  threshold  the  view  was 
anvthing  but  encouraging  —  a  world  of  mountains.  We 
resolved  to  encamp  where  we  were  (17,405  feet  high)  and 
to  try  the  other,  southern,  pa.ssage  ne.xt  day. 

A  miserable  camp !  The  storm  raged  so  violently  that 
the  tents  could  hardly  be  set  up,  and  the  iron  tent-pegs 
beat  together  and  rattled  until  they  were  fixed.  We  had 
first  to  make  a  fire  before  we  could  use  our  numbed  hands, 
and  a  small  stone  wall  had  to  be  raised  to  {)revent  the  fire 
from  being  carried  away.  Xow  Xature  and  the  elements 
were  against  us,  whereas  we  might  in  the  future  expect 
opposition  from  man.  The  pasture  was  wretched,  and  a 
grey  horse  and  the  last  mule  from  Poonch  lay  dead  in  the 
morning.  It  was  the  senior  of  the  veterans,  for  it  had 
come  with  me  all  the  way  from  Srinagar  and  had  done 
gcKxl  service,  and  I  was  grieved  at  losing  it.  Xow  there 
was  only  one  creature  left  which  hacl  seen  the  first 
beginning  of  the  caravan,  namely,  our  bnnvn  Pu[)py.  She 
and  the  little  puppy  kept  me  company  in  this  oppressive, 
weary  solitucle. 

Erom  cam[)  309,  where  we  stayed  a  day,  there  was  an 
uninterrujjted  view  over  another  longitudinal  valley,  to  the 
south  of  the  former.  There  lay  a  contracted  salt  lake.  At 
almost  every  camp,  as  on  the  former  journey,  I  drew  a 
panorama  of  tlic  :>urr!!uridirigs,  and  tried  sometimes  to 
paint  small  water-colour  drawings  (Illustration  302).     Then 


* 


^^im^tiw^wm^i^m 


^s^Mi 


262 


TRAXS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


'•<! 


11 


It 


I. 


i 


1  h;ul  to  sit  in  the  oiK'ninj;  of  the  tent  and  hold  the  block 
over  the  fire  to  prevent  the  brush  freezinj^  into  a  lump  of 
ire.  Hut  the  sky,  whit  h  should  have  been  of  an  even  blue 
or  j^rey  tone,  usually  turned  into  a  film  of  ice  with  stranf^e 
stars  and  crystals. 

In  cain])  310  we  also  remained  a  day,  for  the  pasture 
was  better  tlian  we  had  found  for  a  lon^  time.  The  gra.ss 
{,Tew  in  sand  on  the  shore  of  a  small  freshwater  lake  with 
a  free  oi)eiiin.t,',  where  at  lenj^th  the  animals  fjot  a  Rood 
drink  after  havin<^  had  to  quench  their  thirst  with  .snow. 
We  had  travelled  188  miles  since  Christmas  Eve,  or  alK)Ut 
6.J  miles  a  day  on  an  average  —  a  terribly  slow  pace.  Now 
we  had  had  a'  furious  storm  for  three  days,  and  here  yellow 
whirls  of  sand  Hew  over  the  ice  and  the  wind  moaned  an<l 
rustled  throui^'h  the  «,Tass.  Alxlul  Keriin  sewed  together 
a  long  Mohammedan  coat  for  me,  which  I  was  to  wear 
under  my  fur  when  I  assumed  my  disguise. 

On  fanuary  24  the  whole  country  was  covered  with 
dazzling  snow  and  the  sun  shone,  but  a  .stormy  blast  drove 
the  fine  snow  particles  in  streaks  over  the  land,  and  a 
roaring  sound  wa--  heard,  .\ntelopes  careered  lightly  over 
the  ground,  dark  against  the  white  snow.  A  mule  died  on 
the  way;  not  even  Tibetan  mules  can  bear  this  climate. 
I  was  benumlx'd  and  half-dead  with  cold  before  I  reached 
the  camp. 

After  a  temperature  of  —21.3°  the  neighlxiurhood  was 
enveloped  in  semi-darkness  by  heavy  clouds.  The  jagged 
mountains  to  the  .south  reminded  me  of  a  squadron  of 
armoured  vessels  at  gunnery  practice  in  rainy  weather. 
Their  grey  outlines  i)eei)ed  out  from  the  low  clouds.  The 
valley  was  about  6  miles  broad.  Towards  the  ea.st  the 
snow  lay  less  thickly,  and  finally  only  the  footprints  of  wild 
animals  were  filled  "with  snow,  like  a  string  of  pearls  in  the 
dark  ground. 

As  I  turn  over  the  leaves  of  my  diary  of  this  terrible 
journey  how  often  I  come  across  the  remark  that  this  was 
the  hardest  day  we  had  hitherto  exi)eriencc(l.  And  yet 
days  were  always  coming  when  we  suffered  still  more.  Sc 
it  was  on  Januar)  20.  The  sky  was  covered  with  such 
compact  clouds  that  we  might  fancy  we  were  riding  under 


I 


':;^-  'i^^iTxr^-'mmm^'^  -<^^ 


YJ>     Cwii' 


:,o-.  ('  \Mi'  ;,;,    'rill   r.i  '-i 


nmm;   c'l     \   Si"H\i. 


pS.    Cwii'  ,.;>-      '•'  ^"  '"  '^' 


iKim;    l^\-r. 


N'i'K  I  H. 


Is    nil    Ki'i'M.kni  SI) 


i 


H  \kl  \k-i>l-'-(H  \l>  1  \-lS\M.I'l 


■Hi 


"•J; 


V 


a 


1 
1 

\    1 

LVtII 


FORTY  I)i:gri-:i:s  hklow  zero 


26^ 


a  prison  vault.  'Vhv  storm  rajjol  with  undiminishcij 
violi-ncc,  and  a  quarti-r  of  an  hour  aftrr  I  had  mounlc-d  my 
horse  I  was  Ixnunilnd  and  powrrk'ss.  My  liands  ached, 
and  I  tried  to  tliaw  my  ri^lU  liaml  hy  breathing  on  it 
whenever  I  hail  to  take  a  note,  but  after  readinj^  the 
compass  for  two  seconds  my  hands  lost  all  feelinj^.  My 
feet  troubled  me  less.  f(tr  I  had  no  feelinj^  at  all  in  them. 
I  only  hoind  1  sh<iuld  reach  the  camp  Ix-'fore  the  bhuKl 
froze  in  my  veins  (Illustration  305). 

Then  we  come  at  length  to  the  Arport-tso  and  leave 
the  northiTn  basin  of  the  lake  on  our  left,  while  a  large 
basin  swells  out  like  a  fjcjrd  tow;'.rds  the  south.  A  moun- 
tain spur  sends  out  a  cape  into  the  lake,  which  has  a  very 
irregular  outline.  It  .stands  in  our  way.  vShall  we  leave  it 
on  the  right  or  left?  We  lome  up  to  the  middle  of  the 
lake  shore  and  wait  while  I-ob.sang  goes  to  .see  if  the 
caravan  can  travel  over  the  ice.  He  hurries  forward  and 
makes  us  a  sign  to  follow.  We  go  down  to  the  beach  and 
along  a  spit  which  narrows  down  to  a  fine  point. 

Here  the  ice  on  our  left  hand  has  been  piled  up  into 
hummocks,  6  feet  high,  of  grand  transparent  green  flat 
slabs,  but  on  the  right,  as  far  as  we  can  .see  over  the 
southern  ba.sin,  the  ice  .spreads  its  level  smooth  sheet  of 
a  beautiful  dark  green  colour  like  leaves  of  laurel  and  lilac. 
We  feel  the  usual  fascination  of  the  ice.  and  stand  and  stare 
down  into  the  dark  cokl  depths.  Drifting  .snow  .sweeps 
like  comets'  tails  over  the  smooth  course.  We  .stand  on 
the  very  point  of  the  promontory,  with  the  narrowest  part 
of  the  Ar])ort-tso  in  front  of  us,  for  the  lake  is  contracted 
like  a  wasp's  wai.st.  Here  there  are  fences,  walls,  and 
barriers  rai.scd  by  ice  pressure,  and  between  them  sncnv 
is  drifted  up,  hard  and  dry  on  the  surface.  It  would  have 
Ix-cn  quite  impossible  to  march  over  the  bare  ice;  the 
caravan  would  have  been  carried  away  like  chaff  before  the 
wind.  But  the  .sninv  atTords  us  an  excellent  path.  Lob- 
sang  leads  the  way,  guiding  us  in  many  a  wind,  but  we 
get  acro.ss  and  come  to  the  farther  shore  at  the  foot  of 
a  clilT. 

Worse   followcil,    for   tlic   rocky   piiint     fell    straight    down 
to  the  lake  on  its  eastern   side,  and   here  we  had   slippery 


mi^t^^^^^^^^mmi^. 


.'04 


TKAXS  IIIMAI.AVA 


ll*  ! 


■1 


ice  swept  dear  of  snow  wliic  li  we  smdni.  One  horse  or 
mule  afur  another  sh|>pe(|  and  fell.  Some  of  them  made 
no  attempt  to  ^ct  up  aLjain.  l)Ut  wen  dra^'^ed  over  the  ice 
to  firm  ground,  where  their  loads  were  put  on  a^ain.  Some 
fell  with  a  luaw  thud  on  the  hard  ireaeherou.>  ice.  We  had 
t(j  (loul)lr  a  whole  scries  of  points  in  this  way  till  we  came 
to  one  where  further  |iio^'res>  was  im[)os>il)le,  for  at  its  foot 
issued  I'orlh  sprin;,'s  whii  h  iipmIui  cd  lar;,'f  openings  in  the 
i(  e.  'I'lure  iey  cold  w.ives  IkmI  with  ii  sharj)  sound  aj,'ainst 
the  ei|,L;es  of  the  ice  under  the  lash  of  the  wind,  which 
drove  lontinually  douils  of  snow  dancing  like  elves  ovct 
the  (lark  ^reen  I'leld  of  i(e.  We  had  to  stru^j,'le  uj)  over 
stee|)  slo|>es  till  at  last  we  readied,  thorou;,'hly  tired  out, 
an  inkt  where  a  few  leaves  of  ^'rass  <;ri'W.  Wo  had  left  a 
mule  on  tile  ice,  and  two  men  went  hack  and  ^ave  it  a  drop 
of  whisky  so  that  it  could  come  on  to  the  camp,  liut  my 
brown  horse  from  Shii^atse,  whii  h  had  so  often  carried  me 
u])  to  the  east  <,Mte  of  I'aslii  lunpo,  rcm.iined  behind  for 
j,'ood.     It  is  sad  and  deprrs>int^  when  a  vileran  dies. 

Arport-tso  lit's  at  a  heij^ht  of  ij-.^Sj  feet.  The  water, 
which  was  drawn  from  an  oi)ening  in  the  ice,  was  ([uite 
potable.  Tiiere  was  a  hi,L,'h  i)ass  in  front  of  us  to  the 
south-ca.it.  but  we  could  not  reach  it  in  oni-  day.  and  we 
(ani|)ed  on  the  i)lain  at  the  south-east  of  the  lake  where 
Kawlinj.;  had  on(  e  stayed.  It  was  litMe  more  than  a  mile 
thither,  but  the  ijrass  was  jfocx]  and  the  animals  needed 
nourishment.  It  snowed  thickly  all  day.  It  \v-s  warm 
and  comfortatjle  under  cover,  and  we  pitied  lice  poor 
animals  which  were  >ut  {^razing  in  the  cold.  The  small 
])Up|)y  had  grown  so  much  that  he  could  wander  alone 
between  the  tents  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  steal 
meat.     A  shee[)  was  slaughterefl. 

At  night  the  cold  was  more  severe  again,  anrl  the 
thermometer  sank  to  —30.3°.  The  .sick  mule  .sought  .shelter 
behind  the  men's  tent,  lay  down  at  once,  and  gave  vent  to 
a  piteous  .sound.  I  went  (jut  to  look  at  it,  and  caused  it 
to  be  jHit  out  of  its  misery. 

On  the  morning  of  the  2Sth  we  found  two  horses  dead 
f^n  th.e  izniss.  One  w'as  one  of  th.e  veter-ans  of  Leh.  which 
Robert  had  ridden,  and  wiiich  al.so  bore  me  to  the  .springs 


¥ 
m 


i 


} 


M 


I''' 


,  r 

1    H 

I 

1    ■ ' 

'Jl 

1 

{ 

i       ^ 

1 

'  i 

! 

FORTY  DKGRKES  BELOW  ZERO 


265 


i 


in  ihc  Sutkj  lied.  Wc  hail  miw  only  iwftity  Uutl'  animals 
Kft.  and  my  small  whitr  Eadaki  was  tlu'  last  of  ihr  vi'trrans. 
Little  I  tliiiiiL;Iit,  as  he  carried  me  over  tlv  Chanj,' lunj^ 
yof^ma,  that  he  would  survi\e  a  hundred  and  t'lt'ty  Kjmrades. 
livery  morniii^,'  two  lonj^  icicles  hunt,'  down  iVom  his  nostrils. 
IL'  was  taken  great  care  of,  and  I  always  saved  a  piece  of 
bread  from  my  hreakt'ast  for  him.  I  had  a  ])arlieular  affec- 
tion for  him  and  for  brown  Pui)i)y.  They  had  hi  en  with 
me  so  loni,',  and  had  passed  throuj^h  .so  many  adventures. 

A  lo»  of  three  animals  in  one  day  was  serious  for  .such 
a  caravan  as  ours.  How  would  it  all  end?  We  had  .still 
an  immen.se  distance  before  us.  We  strug<^led  f(;r  three 
hours  with  halting  steps  u|)  this  terrible  pass,  which  had  a 
height  of  18,281  feet.  We  encam])ed  in  the  shelter  of  a  rock 
and  killed  the  last  worn-out  sheep,  and  then  had  no  more 
live  store  of  meat. 

The  temi)eraturc  fell  to  -24.5°,  and  the  first  sound  I 
heard  in  the  morning  of  the  jgth  was  the  everlasting  howl 
of  the  storm.  We  marched  south-ea.stwards  thn-ugh  .snow 
a  foot  deei).  "One  of  our  wor.st  days,"  it  is  .styled  in  my 
diary.  We  cared  about  nothing  e.\cei)t  to  get  to  our  camj) 
alive.  I  had  a  s(  arf  wound  several  times  over  my  face, 
l)Ut  it  was  quickly  turned  into  a  .sheet  of  ice,  which  cracked 
when  I  turned  my  head.  I  tried  to  .smoke  a  cigarette,  but 
it  froze  on  to  my  lips.  Two  horses  died  on  the  way,  and 
Alxlul  Kcrim's  horse  took  over  the  load  of  one  ol'them, 
while  the  man  him.self  went  on  foot  like  the  others.  I 
followed  the  track  of  the  caravan  with  Kutus.  Then  we 
found  Kunchuk  Sonam  and  Suen  unable  to  go  further; 
they  sulTered  from  pains  at  the  heart.  I  tried  to  cheer 
them  up,  and  promised  to  give  them  medicine  if  they  would 
follow  slowly  in  the  track  of  the  caravan.  Was  it  now  the 
turn  of  the  men  after  half  the  caravan  had  been  lost? 
Quite  overcome  with  fatigue  they  hobbled  at  twilight  into 
camp. 

Abdul  Kerim  came  into  my  tent  very  ca.st  down  and 
asked  if  we  should  fall  in  with  nomads  within  ten  days,  for 
otherwise  he  con.sidcred  our  condition  desperate.  In  truth, 
I  could  give  him  no  ronsolation,  but  could  onlv  tell  him 
tliat  we  must  go  on  as  long  as  there  was  a  single'  mule  left, 


»'l 


■'■V 


266 


TRA\S-in  MALAYA 


CHAP.    LVIll 


and  then  try  to  rlrap;  ourselves  alon^  to  the  nf)macls  with  as 
much  food  as  we  eould  carry.  Xow  we  thoui;lit  no  longer 
of  pursuers  behind,  or  of  dangers  before  us,  hut  only 
wished  to  preserve  our  lives  and  come  to  lountry  where 
we  coukl  find  means  of  subsistence.  Behind  us  the  snow 
obliterated  our  tracks,  and  the  future  awaited  us  with  its 
impenetrable  secrets. 


^'  II 


■'I! 


Hi 


>f 


CHAPTER  LIX 


IN   THE   SNOW 


'  The  storm  howled  round  us  all  night  long,  and  our  thin 

tent  canvas  lluttcrcd  in  the  blast.     Gulam  awaked  mc  with 

the   information,  "It   is  nasty   weather   to-day;    we  can   sec 

nothing."     Even    the    nearest    mountains    were    hic'len    by 

the  snow,  and  if  I  had  not  alreaiiy  taken  a  bearing  along 

^  the  valley  in  the  direction  .south,  35°  E.,  we  could  not  have 

•a  set  out.     This  day,   January  30,  we  had   to  keep  together, 

^  for    the    driving    sncjw    obliterated    the    tracks    immediately. 

5  We  had  two  leaders,  and   I  rode  la.st  along  the  trail,  which 

at  first  was  marked  as  a  black  winding  line,  but  farther  on, 

where    the    snow   lay    2    feet    deep,    no   ground    or   rubbish 

.i  could    be   .seen.     A   brown    horse   which   carried   no   burtlcn 

S  lay  down  anfl  died   in   the  snow.     \Vc  could   see  the  show 

_  making   ready   its   grave    before    it    was   cold.     It    vanished 

behind    us   in    the   dreadful   solitude. 

VV'c  move  forwards  at  a  very  slow  pace  through  the 
snowdrifts.  The  fury  of  the  storm  carries  away  the 
warning  shouts  from  the  lips  of  the  guides  and  they  do 
not  reach  our  cars;  we  .simply  follow  the  trail.  Lobsang 
goes  first,  and  he  often  disappears  in  the  dry  loose  snow 
and  has  to  seek  another  direction.  In  the  hollows  the 
snow  lies  3  feet  deep,  and  we  can  take  only  one  step  at  a 
time  after  the  spades  have  cut  us  a  ditch  through  the  snow. 
One  or  other  of  the  animals  is  always  falling,  and  the 
removal  of  his  load  and  readjusting  it  causes  a  block,  for 
all  must  follow  in  the  same  furrow.  All,  men  and  animals, 
are  half-dead  with  fatigue  and  lalx)ur  for  breath.  The 
snuw  sweeps  round  us  in  sufTocating  wreaths;  we  turn  our 

»6; 


r; 


208 


'IKAXS-III.MALAVA 


t ' 


ic 


'I 


ri 


backs  to  the  winrl  and  lean  forwards.  Only  the  nearest 
mules  arc  plainly  visihlc,  the  fifth  is  indistinct,  and  those 
at  the  front  are  seen  only  as  slight  shadows  amidst  the 
universal    whiteness.     I    cannot    catch    a    f,'limpse  the 

j,'ui(lcs.     Thus  the  trooj)  ])asM  ^  (  n  a  few  steps  till  .mes 

to  the  next  block,  and  when  tlir  mule  immediately  in  ironl  of 
me  moves  on  aj^'ain  it  is  only  to  j)luiiL;e  into  a  Jiollow  filled 
with  snow,  where  two  men  wait  to  keep  up  its  lo.id.  The 
direction  is  n<nv  cast  and  the  ^Tound  rises.  A  few  such  davs 
and  the  caravan  will  be  lost  (Illustration  312). 

At  len,i,nli  we  come  to  a  low  pass  (18,268  feet  high). 
Even  at  sea-level  such  a  journey  would  be  hard  cnouj^h, 
but  how  much  wor>t'  it  is  in  a  country  which  lies  .some 
hundreds  of  feet  hi,!L,'her  than  Mont  lUanc,  and  where  there 
is  nothini,'  but  ^'ranite.  On  the  eastern  side  of  the  saddle 
the  snow  lay  3  feet  deep  in  some  i)laces,  and  it  seemed  as 
thouL^h  we  should  be  stuck  fast  in  the  snowdrifts;  and  what 
had  we  to  e\i)ect  then  .^  For  the  provender  was  cominj; 
to  an  end,  and  we  must  <:,o  on  if  we  would  find  jxisture. 
Xow  we  went  gently  down,  the  .snow  became  a  little  less 
deej),  and  we  came  to  an  expan.sion  of  the  vallev  where 
there  were  stretches  of  j;;round  swe[)t  bare  by  the  blast. 
On  the  right  appeared  a  slope  where  Abdul  Ke'rim  thought 
he  saw  blades  of  grass  sticking  uf)  out  of  the  .snow,  and  "he 
asked  {)ermission  to  camp.  It  was  dilTicult  to  .set  up  the 
tents  that  evening.  At  dusk  the  two  sick  men  came  up, 
their  faces  blue  and  swollen. 

A  miserable  camp!  The  .storm  incrca.sed  to  a  hurri- 
cane, and  nothing  could  be  heard  but  its  howling.  When 
I  looked  out  of  my  tent  I  could  .sec  nothing  that  was  not 
white,  and  there  was  no  difference  between  the  ground, 
the  mountains,  and  the  sky  —  all  being  alike  white.  Not 
even  the  men's  tent  could  be  distinguished  in  the  driving 
snow.  The  fine  particles  penetrated  into  the  tent  and 
covered  everything  with  a  white  powder.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  look  for  fuel,  and  at  three  o'clock  the  temperature 
in  the  tent  was  1.4°.  I  could  see  nothing  living  outside, 
and  I  might  have  been  quite  alone  in  this  wilderness. 

My  tru.sty  Gulam  comes,  however,  at  length  with  fire, 
for    Lobsang    and     Scdik     have    found     some    brushwood^ 


.«' 


1 


\ 


It 


n 


id 


I 


IS 


IX    THE   SNOW 


2(h) 


(luhim  says  that  Sotiaiii  Kunchuk  is  ready  to  lay  hinisi'lf 
down  on  ihc  snow  and  die,  hut  I  advise  him  to  take  a 
<,'ood  dose  of  (juinine  instead.  Late  at  ni.^Iu  tlie  tones  of 
the  hymn  to  Allah  reat  h  my  ears,  sounding  .softer  and 
sadder  than  usual  amid  the  rai^'inj,'  of  the  storm.  We  are 
movin<^  t(;war(ls  a  dark  destiny,  I  have  attempted  too  much, 
and  any  moment  the  catastroi)he  may  come.  We  are 
snowed  up  here,  the  animals  mu.>t  die  of  star^■ation,  and  I 
myself  -    well,  it  is  liut  a  (jUi.>tion  of  time. 

A  little  Ixlow  the  camj)  the  valley  made  a  turn  to  the 
ri.L,'ht.  Thither  the  animals  had  <;one  at  r.ii,'ht,  hut  ca.ne 
hark  as  there  was  no  <.,'ra/.in<,'.  A  <;rey  mule  had  stayed 
hehind  to  die.  !t  lay  in  a  curious  po.sition,  as  thou<,'li  it 
had  died  in  the  act  of  ,t;etlinj^  up  —on  its  knees  with  its  nose 
])ressed  aijain.^t  the  .t^Tound,  and  was  fro/.en  hard  in  this 
l)osition.     Vet  the  temperature  fell  only  to   -  16.4°. 

The  storm  continued  with  undiminished  violence  on 
January  ,v  We  loaded  the  nineteen  mules  and  hor.scs 
and  marched  down  the  valley  at  random  in  the  .same  den.sc 
.snow.  The  snow  came  down  in  incredihie  quantities; 
such  a  snowstorm  I  had  never  witnes.sed  even  on  the 
Pamir.  We  could  not  travel  more  than  2^  miles,  and 
then  we  halted  anfl  [)!tchefl  the  tents,  which  looked  dirty 
a^'ainst  the  pure  snow.  Four  hi-,'  wild  yaks  were  moving; 
over  the  .slopes,  tramj)ing  like  .snow  plouj^dis.  The  dogs 
made  after  them,  hut  soon  gave  up  the  chase,  for  they  could 
not  go  far  in  the  drifts.  The  animals  received  their  allow- 
ance of  rice,  and  then  trailed  ofl  to  a  hill  where  they  poked 
ahout  for  the  scanty  grass. 

I  examined  all  the  haggage  with  the  heli)  of  .Mjdul 
Kerim  and  Gulam,  and  discarded  all  that  could  he  spared. 
I'nnece.s.sary  clothing  and  worn-out  ho  ts  were  l)urned, 
and  reserve  garments  were  hrought  out.  My  articles, 
note-books,  and  instruments  were  stulTed  into  two  small 
sacks.  Writing  materials  and  other  things  for  dailv  u.se 
were  packed  in  a  small  handhag  from  Stockholm.'  The 
other  chests  were  used  as  firewood,  when  the  men  had 
stripped   ofT  the  leather  coverings  to   make  new   shoe-soles. 


Even     the      hnv     for     thr-     rMdl-imr     nn.nei'l^-      .,r%r\      iUr.     ,,-^. .,,.;„„ 

boxes   were    burned,   and    all    the    baggage   was    henceforth 


I 


w'y 


?7o 


'rkAXS-HIMALAVA 


CUAP. 


« 

t, 

1 1 


I  i' 


HI 


rarrii'd  in  sacks.  Hy  this  means  the  loads  were  made 
h'f^'hter  anil  more  (onvcniiiu,  tiioiij^di  there  was  more 
trouble  in  turning,'  everythiiii,'  out  of  a  sack  when  any- 
thin;^  wa^  wanted  from  the  bottom. 

In  the  afternoon  there  was  a  short  break  in  the  .snow- 
storm. Heyond  the  white  limits  of  the  valley  was  seen 
to  the  -South-east  the  larj^'e  lake  Shemen-t.so,  with  a 
dark  purple  sky  above  it,  presa^'in<^  more  snow.  I  took 
bearings  of  the  ne.xt  day's  route,  and  it  was  well  I  did  so, 
for  .soon  the  .sn(jw  bef.,'an  to  fall  aj^'ain  unusually  thickly. 
It  .snowed  all  day  and  all  nit^'ht,  and  a  swishini^  .sound  was 
heard  as  the  snowllakes  were  driven  by  the  wind  aj^'ain.st 
the  canvas  of  the  tent  and  from  time  to  time  .slipped 
down.  In  the  morning  of  February  i  piles  of  .snow  lay 
round  the  tents.  The  minimum  temj)erature  was  only 
-0.8°,  and  it  felt  (juite  pleasant.  We  loaded  our  weary- 
hungry  {)ack  animals  and  marched  slowly  south-eastwards. 
The  gale  blew  from  the  south,  and  the  .snow  pelted  on  to 
our  faces. 

Silently  and  heavily  the  fainting  troop  moved  on 
towards  the  lake.  All  the  men's  U-ards  and  mou.staches 
were  whii  with  rime,  and  we  seemed  all  to  have  turned 
grey  in  a  night.  Alxlul  Kerim  walked  in  front  with  his 
staff,  but  he  took  a  wrong  direction,  and  I  chose  another 
leader.  In  some  i)laces  we  were  nearly  suffocated  in  the 
snow,  and  the  crestfallen  men  stood  in  the  drifts,  at  a 
loss  what  to  do.  Hut  we  plunged  and  floundered  on  a 
bit,  and  then  stood  .still;  then  a  little  bit  further.  The 
pass  over  which  we  had  made  our  way  the  previous 
day  was  no  doubt  blocked  by  snow.  Had  we  reached  it 
two  days  later  we  should  never  have  forced  a  way  over  it. 
Xow  our  retreat  was  cut  off,  and  we  must  seek  safety 
.southwards.  It  was  some  consolation  to  know  that  we 
had  burned  our  ships. 

Fortunately  the  ground  sloped  down,  and  as  we  toiled 
on  hour  after  hour  the  .snow  diminished  and  travelling 
became  ea.sier.  But  the  .storm,  which  had  now  raged  for 
a  fortnight,  showed  no  signs  of  abatement.  Down  on  the 
western  flat  by  the  lake  die  snow  mantle  was  thin,  and  v.e 
encamped  in  a  spot  where  the  grass  was  not  bad.     I  g.ve 


I 


\i2.     "Ik   1111^  c(iMi\rK>    \   nu    iivs'-   i.on'IK,   uk    \ki    kki. 


.•11 


1 


'»• 


M 


,1  it 

1 
1 

1 

i 

1^ 

l-\'    lUE   SXoW 


the    men    some    cigarctt 


t\ 


uv 


IN    cvcrv 


ti;i-lt'avcs 


smoknl     yak-duiiK    and    'lill,,|     ,i 


cvcnini;     -at    other    ti 


ifir 


nari;! 


iiles 


nics 
with 


'I'hc    ni-'ht 


was    unusually    mild,     with     tl 


ic     minimum 
as    di'n>f    as 


temperature    only    ?  ->"     hnf    fl,o    ,  i  ,   i 

«cuml   ov„ytl,i„K   Iha.   c„ul,l    rtv    "^^u.  "™'"?   ' 

ovcrthr„«n.     In    i|,,    „„„,„„    a  I     k     .,„iJ  1    h    ,      '" 

zzi.  *""  "^  '^''^'■™^  i-'^.  which'";;.;  ru,hf:i!; 


■J, 


ii? 


C'llAI'TIlK    I.X 


■^ 


h|l 


! 


DI.ATII   01    Till.    I.AM    VI.TKRAM 

SriDDin  wiih  twinklini,'  st;ir>  tin-  winter  sky  sfrctdidl  its 
(lark  Mill'  (,in(i|)y  ()\rr  our  luiu-onu'  canii),  and  50  (Icirri'i-s 
(if  fniNt  torctold  a  (liar  d.iy.  (  )n  I'"(l)ruarv  j  iint  a  cloud 
hoMTcd  o\(r  liif  mountain^,  aivl  this  plateau,  ahandoncl 
\>y  Kod>  and  men.  uhi'  li  had  lately  Incn  luiried  undiT 
the   white   ^hroud   of   winter,   w.is  at,Min    illutnine(l    liv   liri^'ht 


sunlii/ht.     S.id 


ni  w- 


wa--     hroiii^'ht     ine     m     the     morning' 


a  hor>r  and  a  mule  lay  (\i\u\  luMde  thi-  tent^.  With  the 
.seventeen  reinainini,'  animals  we  (oiitinued  our  journev  aloni; 
tlu'  irrejiular  northern  >hore  of  the  Shemen  t-^o  (  lO.j^f)  feet ). 
Tlu'  (juantity  of  snow  heeanie  le^,,  ami  at  (.imp  :^20  the 
},'ravelly  ^miund  was  alnio-t  hare.  The  view  over  the  lake- 
was  <,M-an(|.  Ciptain  R.iwlint,'".-.  nia|)  of  thi>  district  is 
e\e(Uted   with  ,L,'re.it  accuracy. 

On  Inhruary  5,  al^o.  we  encamped  on  the  --hore  of  the 
i^nvat  lake,  having  followed  the  curves  of  it>  Imvs  and 
(apes.  .\  mule  died  on  the  way.  Thouuh  we  had  burned 
all  we  could  (li>i)ense  with,  yet  tlie  lo.ids  wen-  nnu  li  too 
heavy  for  the  survivint;  animals.  .\  liii;  stroma  mule 
always  led  the  van.  at  the  heels  of  (iulatn;  it  carried  at 
lea>t  two  ordinary  loads,  and  yet  was  fat  and  fresh.  'I'herc 
wa>  no  >iL,'n  of  human  l)ein,i,'s.  .\  ilock  of  jackdaws  were 
parched  on  a  cra^.  .\l  the  camp  the  provisions  were 
in>pecti'd.  and  we  decided  to  relin(iui<h  three  heavy  sacks 
of  ri(  e.  The  rite  was  to  lie  Ljiven  on  the  foUowini^  davs, 
mi.xed  with  parche(l  meal  and  water,  to  the  animals.  Of 
my  pro\i.-ions.  only  two  ho.xes  of  tinned  meat,  .some  jam 
and   l)i>cuits,   were  left.     We  had   not  tasted  meat  for  some 


cinr  .V     i)i;\iii  (»i    nil:  \.\sv  \i:i  i:k\\ 


-7.? 


time.      I  lie   -tiirtii   raijnl   all   'l>i\    ami    tlir   suti    liaij    vaiii^lidl 

(  )i)  iVhru.irv  ()  uc  pa^M'd  a  vitv  atmr  Tit  ^|irin'4 
of  waliT  at  a  ti  nipt  ralurr  nf  \<t2^.  wliiiii  |H)urri|  iiitu  tile 
lalsf.  ThiTf  tl<)(  IsN  lit'  >lii(|i  IkhI  rtdtitly  dnink.  and  low- 
of  (airn-  ran  trntn  tlic  -hurc  to  u'uidc  antilniK'--  into  the 
trap-  in  the  ground.  \ou  no  L;anir  \\a-  Mi-n  t\((pt  a 
siri^lc  kiaiii,'.  A  ninlt  dicil.  and  AUIiil  Knini^  \tllov\ 
lior-^f  l'(  II  liy  till-  ua\.  ()nly  foiirticn  aniniaN  n  ai  hid  thr 
i,ini]>  thi>  ilay,  and  "t  tlu--c  inv  >niall  vdiitc  l.adaki  wa^  in 
llu-  wor-t  pliL'lit  ;  111'  -tuniliKd  ami  fill,  and  I  made  a 
Som(r>ault    ovrr    hi-    hiad. 

The  day  aftiT,  v.i  inado  a  -hurt  jouriuy,  Kft  thr  laki' 
and  it^  Iiarnn  >hon  lnhind  iH.  and  -tt  up  our  ti'iit--  amid 
^oo<|  ;,'ra--.  'I'lu-  uiatlur  \va-<  t'liii",  at  one  o\  lo(  k  thr 
ti'iniHTaturc  was  14',  and  it  fi'It  a->  thoimh  spring  had 
( onir.  All  the  aniiiiaU  lay  down  to  ri'-t  and  warm  tlum 
S(  lvr>  in  thr  -un.  (  'nly  my  -mall  Ladaki  Ixt^an  to  f^razc 
immi'iliatcly ;  hv  would  not  dir.  hut  would  follow  mi'  to  llii' 
end.  Wild  a--(->  and  antrlo])ts  ^'ra/nl  on  thr  -trppr,  and 
harts  wrrc  plriiliful.  1  wa-  alarmid  by  a  mi>-a.i;i'  that 
three  men  (ould  Ih'  seen  at  somi-  dir-tanii-  to  the  north, 
and  the  laravan  t)a-hi  wi-hed  me  to  lome  and  examine 
them  throuu'h  mv  tuML:la--.  Api);;r"ntlv  thev  were  on 
the  way  to  our  ram]i.  lUit  1  had  jilentx-  of  time  to  put  on 
my  di-uui-e.  I  w.itihe(l  them  a  lon;^'  time,  till  at  la-t  they 
turned  into  three  wild  yaks  which  had  Inen  lengthened 
out  liy  niirat,'e.  We  had  no  need  yet  to  trouble  our>elves 
abnut  men.  but  perhajjs  these  vak-  weri'  forerunners. 

Xow  \  had  rid<lcn  my  small  white  hor>e  for  the  last 
time.  ( )n  ['"ebruary  S,  when  we  rontinued  our  man  h 
ea-t  -outh-ea-t  after  a  minimum  temjjerature  f)f  —  1^.9°,  he 
followeil  the  (aravan  loose  and  unladen,  and  fell  even  with- 
out a  ridt  r.  I  nxle  insteail  a  tzrey  horse  from  Tik/e. 
Ue  made  barely  5  miles,  but  yet  the  journey  was  full  of 
events.  ( )n  the  other  -ii|e  on  a  low  hill  stofxl  a  I'antholops 
antelii[)e.  whi(  h  did  not  run  away  though  we  were  (|uite 
clo-e.  We  soon  notiied  that  it  was  held  fast  and  wa.s 
r-li  u.LjuiinL,'  to  L,'el  tree.  Tile  do<,'s  rushed  at  it.  i)Ul  a  roujjie 
of  men  hurried  on  to  keep  them  ot'f.     The  animal  wa>  fast 

Vol  .   !I  T 


u? 


274 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


Irf' 


I 


'n  a  snare  laifl  in  an  antelope  trark,  where  also  we  noticed 
tre^h  footi)rints  oi'  two  n^.en.  We  were  evidently  not  far 
from  winter  hunters,  who  perhaps  had  already  cauf^dit  si<;ht 
of  us.  I'erhap.s  they  had  seen  me,  the  only  one  ridmg 
in  Kuropean  dress.  Perhaps  it  was  too  late  to  disguise 
myself.  .Ml  m\-  jjlans  would  then  be  spoiled,  and  all  the 
labours  of   the  winter   lost. 

Hut  at  any  rate  we  had  now  fresh  meat.  Let  us 
examine  the  in,c;enious  trap  in  which  the  game  is  caught. 
Plates  of  rib  l).)nes  (<f  antel()j)es  are  firmlv  fixed  in  a  ring 
'•'"  hard  twisted  vegetable  fibres,  which  f(/rm  a  funnel  with 
ihv  points  in  a  ditch.  The  antelope  is  enticed  into  the  traj) 
by  a  row  of  small  cairns,  and  tramps  about  in  the  funnel, 
the  jdates  giving  way,  ))ut  forming  immovable  impediments 
when  he  attempts  to  draw  his  hooves  out.  Rut  the  snare 
must  be  hi  Id  secure  if  it  is  to  have  the  desired  effect.  A 
rope  as  thick^  as  a  finger  is  made  fast  in  the  bottom  of  the 
ditch,  which  is  filled  with  water,  and  after  freezing  Ix-comes 
as  hard  as  >lone.  The  free  end  of  the  rope  forms  a  noose 
above  the  ring  of  fibres,  which  tightens  when  the  animal 
first  attempts  to  lift  his  leg  and  holds  down  the  funnel  of 
ril)s.  The  more  the  jioor  animal  jumps  about.,  the  faster 
is   the   hold    of  the    twisted    snare. 

The  victim  was  slain;  the  dogs  ate  their  fill  of  the 
entrails,  and  the  meat  made  ordinary  loads  for  four  men. 
Then  we  went  on.  At  the  mouth  of  a  vallev  to  the 
south  were  seen  a  sh.ejjfold  and  two  black  specks  we 
took  for  stones.  Beyond  a  grass-grown  mound  we  found 
a  j)ool  of  fresh  water,  and  we  pitched  the  camp  near  it  It 
was  not  long  l)ef()re  the  Ladakis  were  sitting  round  a  fire 
and  rcKisting  pieces  of  delicate,  much-appreciated  meat. 

Xow,  when  we  weri'  evidently  in  the  neighbourhofxl  of 
human  beings,  it  was  time  for  me  to  give  directions  to  my 
fK'ople.  All  were  r.mimoned  to  my  tent.  I  told  them  that 
we  should  succeed  in  crossing  the  forbidden  land  only  by 
crafti,K»  and  cautiousness,  and  that  I  had  made  the  great 
sacrifices  which  they  had  witnes.sed  only  to  sec  regions 
where  no  Sahib  had   ever  l)een.     If  our  scheme  were  to  be 

"•     '    :'•    •■^•-^'    fi"!::    •■•  =  "M    i;w   iii>  !;;ity   ani!    piav   nis   pa;t 

well.     Whenever  Tibetans  jnit   the  usual   questions,   whence 


DEATH    OF   THE   LAST    \  E'lERAX 


•/D 


wc  camo  an.l  uliitluT  \w  were  j^oini,',  they  should  answer 
that  we  were  all,  without  exception,  Ladakis,  in  the  service 
of  a  nierchiuit  named  Gulani  Ra/.ul,  who  had  sent  us  to 
Chang-tanj;  to  find  out  how  much  wool  could  l)e  houfzht 
from  the  nomads  next  summer.  Aljdul  Kerim  was  our 
lea<Ier  and  chief,  and  had  to  mana<;e  our  affairs.  He 
was  therefore  f^iven  loo  rupees  for  expenses,  and  every 
evening  when  no  one  could  spy  upon  us  he  was  to  render 
an  account  to  me.  I  myself  was  one  of  his  servants,  a 
Mohammedan  named — Aljdurrahman,  the  caravan  basl  i 
suggested  —  but  no;  Hajji  liaba  sounded  better  to  me. 
Accordingly,  when  we  rame  anK.ng  'I'ibetans,  they  shcjuld 
never  forget  and  call  me  Sahib,  but  only  Hajji  Baba.  All 
understood  the  matter  and  promised  to  do  their  best. 

A  little  later,  Lobsang  came  running  up  and  declared 
that  the  two  black,  stones  were  tents.  We  went  out  and 
examined  them  through  the  field-glass.  Quite  true;  smoke 
rose  from  one  of  them,  but  neither  men  nor  animals  were 
visible.  I  at  once  ordered  Alxlul  Kerim,  Aljdul  Kasak,  and 
Kutus  to  go  and  ])ay  for  the  antelojje,  buy  anything  they 
could,  and  obtain  information.  They  soon  came  back  again 
and  asked  if  it  would  not  be  wiser  to  avoid  the  tents 
and  march  on  eastwards,  the  more  so  that  the  inmates 
might  be  robbers.  Xo;  these  men  had  seen  us  and  might 
send  a  report  to  Rudok,  and  then  we  should  be  stopped. 
It  was  Ix'st,  then,  to  enter  into  friendly  relations  with  the 
men  and  lull  them  into  security.  "  i'ismillah,"  cried  the 
three  and  to<jk  themselves  off,  while  th*.  others  sat  by  the 
fire  in  lively  conversation  about  the  incidents  of  the  day 
and  the  [)rospects  of  the  future.  It  was  now  sixty-four  days 
since  we  liad  left  the  last  village  in  Ladak.  while  on  the 
former  journey  we  had  been  in  solitude  for  eighty  one  days. 

After  three  hours  my  men  returned.  The  two  tents 
contained  nine  inmates  —  two  grown  uj)  men,  two  women, 
three  girls,  and  two  lx)ys.  The  older  man  was  named 
Purung  Kungga,  and  he  owned  150  sheep  an<l  4  dogs, 
Imt  no  other  animals.  During  their  journey  from  Vildan 
their   tents   and    go(xJs   were   carried    by   sheep.     They   had 

month  more.     The  day  Kfore  they   had  just   Ix-en   to    lo(jk 


li:. 


I 


iA 


276 


TRAXS-Ill  MALAYA 


CBAP. 


1i 


il! 


HI' 


at  thfir  antelope  trap,  when  they  were  alarmed  at  the 
sight  i)f  the  earuvan.  Thiy  took  it  for  {^ranted  that  only 
rohhers  could  be  travellin<^  in  this  district,  which  lay 
out-ide  the  haunts  of  honest  and  h(jnourable  men.  The 
antelope  had,  then,  been  not  more  than  an  hour  in  the 
trai>.  -Alxlul  Kerim  paid  3  rupees  for  it,  3  for  a  sheep, 
and  1  for  milk  and  butter.  We  could  get  more  milk  early 
in  till-  morning,  but  we  should  have  to  send  for  it,  for  the 
nomads  dared  not  come  to  our  tents.  We  might  have 
kept  the  antelope  without  compensation,  for  we  were 
wayfarers  and  had  a  right  to  take  what  we  found.  In 
answer  to  their  infjuiry  who  we  were,  Alxlul  Kerim 
repeated  the  yarn  he  had  just  learned.  The  country  about 
camp  324  is  called  Riochung.  In  one  of  the  tents  lay 
the  hides  and  meat  of  nine  antelopes.  The  peo])le  lived 
almost  exclusively  on  the  game  they  caught  in  their 
snares. 

So  far  wc  had  been  fortunate.  With  provisions  for 
twenty-one  days  instead  of  for  seveniy-five,  we  had  struggled 
up  to  the  Karakorum  instead  of  finding  a  passage  to  the 
east ;  we  had  been  persecuted  by  raging  storms,  biting 
cold,  and  deej)  snow  all  the  way,  and  yet  wc  had  lighted 
on  the  first  men.  They  were  like  a  rock  in  the  ocean, 
and  now  again  we  were  to  venture  over  the  ''aging  waves. 
This  day  found  us  only  a  few  miles  uj)  a  gently  sloping 
valley  filled  with  ice.  Little  Pu|)py  was  let  loose  and 
had  to  look  after  himself  a  l^it.  But  he  was  soon  tired, 
and  lay  down   till  Kunchuk  fetched  him. 

February  10.  The  valley  Ixjltom  is  full  of  ice  sheets, 
which  we  often  cross  after  they  have  l)een  strewn  with 
sand.  Wc  wander  through  a  labyrinth  of  clay  hills.  In 
an  expansion  to  the  left  are  seen  three  stone  cabins  and 
some  maui  heaps;  here  is  the  gold  placer  which  Rawling 
(alls  Rungma-tok,  and  the  hunters  we  saw  yesterday  Getsa- 
rung.  The  gokl-diggers  come  hither  only  in  summer. 
The  camj)  to-day,  Xo.  326,  is  in  an  excellent  spot,  with  a 
.sandy  soil,  plenty  of  fuel,  and  an  unfrozen  brook.  It  is 
|)leasant  to  listen  to  the  ])urling  water,  a  sign  of  approaching 


>ring.     East     and     suulh-cast     rises     a     wreath     of     loft^ 


mountains,   which   we   have   to   surmount.     As  long   as   the 


i 


DEATH  OF  THE  LAST  \ETERAX 


-'77 


};round  is  flat  and  there  is  grass  the  animals  do  very  well, 
but  they  cannot  endure  a  hi.t^h  pass.  My  white  Ladaki 
has  picked  up  again,  and  tlie  men  are  ordered  to  tend 
him  carefully. 

February  ii.  We  ascend  the  valley,  and  the  snow 
becomes  deei)er  again.  In  one  j)lace  are  seen  fresh  tracks 
of  three  men.  We  camp  behind  a  dilT  to  get  shelter  from 
the  wind,  but  first  wc  have  to  cross  the  ice  belt  in  the 
valley  bottom,  where  a  path  has  Ix'en  recently  sanded.  It 
is  evident  that  we  shall  soon  fall  in  with  men  —  perhaps 
on  the  march  between  the  two  camps.  Therefore  I  i)Ut 
on  my  new  Ladaki  costume  with  a  girdle  round  the  waist. 
The  white  turban  is  kept  ready  at  hand  in  case  we  meet 
Tibetans.  The  chapkan  looks  suspiciously  clean,  but 
(iulam  undertakes  to  .soil  it  with  fat  and  .soot.  My  soft 
leather  ve.st  is  sacrificed  and  cut  up  for  soles.  After  this 
camp  Lobsang  and  Kutus  were  reciuired  to  give  me  every 
evening  lessons  in  Tibetan,  and  I  arranged  all  the  new 
words  in  a  vocabulary  which  afterwards  grew  to  a  con- 
siderable size.  Thus  we  spent  a  couple  of  hours  each 
day  when  all  my  literature  was  at  an  end.  I  especially 
practised  the  answers  I  was  to  give  in  ca.se  I,  Hajji  Baba, 
were  subjected  to  cross-^.Kamination. 

On  the  1 2th  we  marched  up  through  the  snowdrifts  in 
the  valley,  where  small,  graceful,  elegant  Goa  antelojjes 
were  seen  on  two  occasions.  The  cam[)ing-ground  was  so 
wretched  that  all  the  animals  wandered  back  in  the  night 
to  the  former  camp,  and  therefore  the  ne.xt  day  was  lost, 
and  we  waited  wearily.  In  my  grey  chapkan  I  am  too 
consi)icuous  among  the  other  ragamuflms,  and  whenever 
I  have  an  opi)ortunity  I  smear  soot  and  butter  on  it  and 
cut  holes  in  it  here  and  there.  A  continuation  of  such 
treatment  will  at  length  make  it  as  disrejjutable  as  the 
others.  I  also  try  to  leav  otT  washing  my  face  and  hands, 
but  do  not  s:icceed  in  locjKing  as  dirty  as  my  men.  With 
them  the  dirt  seems  to  l)c  engrained  and  never  to  be 
removed,  and  they  could  grow  potatoes  under  their  nails. 
My  desire  was  to  become  like  them  as  soon  as  possible,  that 
I  might  e"-c:\!«?  th*'  rsotici'  of  the  '!"ibet:>.ns. 

February  14.    Temperature  —22.9°.      Again    wc    are    a 


27H 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


H 


;tt1 


few  miles  nearer  our  destination  and  a  day  nearer  spring. 
Our  progress  is  slow,  but  we  mu.st  be  glad  that  wc  can  get 
along  at  all.  Camp  329  is  in  the  valley  leading  to  the 
pass,  which  we  have  taken  several  days  to  reach.  A  mule 
is  fatigued  and  is  relieved  of  his  load.  Some  grass  is 
again  found,  and  all  the  animals  go  out  to  graze,  except 
my  small  Laflaki,  which  stands  beside  my  tent  with  droop- 
ing head  and  icicles  under  his  eyes.  He  has  Ixrn  weep- 
ing, knowing  well  that  he  will  never  Ixi  able  to  cross  over 
the  pass  and  that  wc  shall  leave  him.  I  .sit  beside  him 
for  .several  hours,  i)atting  and  stroking  him,  and  trying  to 
induce  him  to  eat  lumps  of  meal  mi.\ed  with  rice.  He 
revives  again  and  goes  .slowly  after  his  comrades. 

February  15.  Temperature  —  22.5°.  A  hard  toilsome 
day.  Through  ice  and  snow  among  sharp  detritus  we 
march  up  the  valley.  My  white  hor.-^e  lea*ls  the  way  of 
his  own  accord  and  I  ride  in  the  rear.  We  keep  together 
for  some  time,  and  ascend  .step  l)y  step  towards  the 
troublesome  pa.ss.  Hut  first  one  and  then  another  lags 
behind.  Among  them  is  my  white  horse.  I  stop  and 
whisper  in  i)ure  Swedish  into  his  ear:  "Do  not  lo.se 
courage;  put  out  all  your  strength  and  climb  the  pass,  and 
then  you  will  go  down  in  a  few  days  to  fine  rich  pasture." 
He  raises  his  head,  ])ricks  up  his  ears,  and  gazes  at  me  as 
I  go  on  up  to  the  pa.ss  with  Kutus  and  Gulam.  Only  a 
cou]>le  of  lively  mules  follow  my  horse  aid  halt  where  he 
halts,  at  every  twentieth  step. 

At  last  we  came  up  to  the  flat  pa.ss,  which  attains  to  the 
considerable  height  of  18,55.^  feet.  Here  wc  waited  a  long 
time.  The  large  black  mule  ])assed  first  over  the  snowy 
threshold  of  the  pass  and  then  the  others,  till  nine  baggage 
animals  had  gone  by  and  my  grey  Tikze  horse  last.  Alxlul 
Kerim  reported  that  four  animals  were  thoroughly  tired 
out.  I  ordered  that  they  .should  be  led  .step  by  step  even 
till  night  if  necessary  and  he  went  down  to  them  again. 
A  little  later  appeared  Tubges  and  Alnlullah  carrying  two 
loads.  One  of  the  four  animals  had  already  departecl  this 
life. 

To  the  west-north -wo^t,  the  <lirerti-)n  from  which  we 
had    come,    the    view    was    magnificent  —  a    sea    of    wild. 


J 


lU 


DEATH   OF   THE   LAST   VE'I  ERA\ 


?79 


red,  gij^jantic  undulations,  with  snow  rrowninj:;  the  summits 
and  streaming  down  their  sides.  During  tlie  hist  days 
we  had  noticed  schists,  porphyry,  red  and  grey  granite. 
The  country  was  absolutely  barren,  and  we  must  try  to 
reach  the  nearest  grass  in  the  descending  valley,  l)ut  it 
was  full  of  snow,  and  the  train  moved  slowly  and  wearily 
through  the  drifts.  I  went  on  foot  like  the  rest ;  every 
man  carried  a  load  to  help  the  animals.  All  were  silent, 
and  trami)ed  and  balanced  themselves  in  the  track  marked 
by  the  leader.  The  valley  contracted  to  a  ditch,  an<l  where 
the  first  yak-moss  grew  we  threw  down  our  burdens.  .\ 
sorry  camp  in  the  clo.se  dismal  valley.  The  last  animals 
stood  tied  together,  and  were  fed  with  pulverized  yak-dung 
and  moss  mixed  with  meal  and  rice. 

At  dusk  the  other  men  came  up  leading  a  mule.  Three 
animals  were  gone,  end  one  of  them  was  my  small  white 
Ladaki  horse.  He  had  struggled  up  to  the  very  top  of 
the  pas.^.  where  I  had  sat  watching  for  him  in  vain,  and 
then  had  laid  him.self  down  to  die.  He  had  served  me 
and  carried  me  faithfully  and  patiently  for  a  year  and  a 
half,  and  had  never  from  the  first  been  mi.ssing  from  the 
camping-ground,  and  now  that  the  last  of  the  veterans  was 
gone  I  felt  very  lonely.  During  the  whole  journey  he  had 
never  reached  a  higher  spot  than  that  whereon  he  died ; 
on  the  very  .saddle  of  the  pass  his  lx)nes  would  be  bleached 
by  the  winter  storms  and  the  summer  sun.  The  caravan 
this  evening  was  empty  and  forlorn,  for  I  had  lo.st  a  trusty 
friend.  Xow  Brown  Puppy  was  my  con.soler,  for  she  had 
been  with  me  from  Srinagar,  and  her  little  whelp  was  the 
youngest  and  lea.st  an.xious  memlxT  of  our  struggling  troop. 

Two  mules  had  crossed  the  pa.ss  but  died  in  the  valley. 
If  another  .such  pass  lay  in  our  way  the  caravan  would 
perish.  The  loads  were  much  too  heavy  for  the  .surviving 
animals.  A  thorough  weeding-out  was  necessary.  My 
ul>ter  and  most  of  my  European  clothes  were  burned. 
Eelt  mats,  tools,  kitchen  utensils,  and  spare  shoes  for  the 
horses  were  thrown  away.  My  small  Swedish  l)ag  was 
burned,  and   all   the  medicines  except  the  (juinine  jar  were 

razors,  went  the  siime  way,  and  only  a  piece  of  soap  was 


'!J 


.( 


h3 


n 


*vt5' 


280 


IRANS-IIIMALAVA 


\\ 


I. 


if 

I 


ki'pt.  All  European  articles  that  were  not  absolutely 
indispensable  were  cast  into  the  fire.  I  tore  out  of 
Frcxling's  poems  the  leavrs  I  difl  not  know  by  heart,  and 
left  the  rest  at  the  camp.  The  rcmaininj^  matches  were 
distributed  amonj,'  the  men ;  I  kept  myself  twenty-four 
lx)xcs,  which  must  .sufTice  until  the  time  when  we  must 
use  only  flint  and  .steel  to  [)reserve  our  incognito. 

Cold  and  .s;id  the  night  .spread  its  wings  over  the  silent 
valley  where  our  lonely  camp,  a  picture  of  desolation,  was 
buried  among  black  cliffs  ancl  white  .snowdrifts,  while  the 
stars  came  out  above  like  lights  burning  round  a  bier. 

While  the  lightened  loacis  were  being  placed  on  the 
animals  I  started  on  foot  followed  by  two  men.  One  of 
them,  Kutus,  walked  beside  me,  and  I  .steadied  my.self  by 
his  shoulder  as  we  floundered  through  the  drifts.  The 
wind  blew  furiously,  and  the  snow  danced  in  .spirals  and 
appeared  as  white  clouds  on  all  the  crags  and  ridges.  After 
a  march  of  about  3  miles  we  encamjK'd  when  we  came  to 
gra.ss.  Snow  had  to  be  melted  in  pots,  for  the  animals  had 
Ix-en  long  without  drink.  This  process  did  not  take  so 
long  now  that  only  eleven  animals  were  left. 

With  totti:ing  steps  we  continued  to  the  cast-south- 
east on  the  17th  and  i8th,  sometimes  along  valleys,  some- 
times over  open  country,  and  always  through  deep  tiring 
snow.  Camp  ^^;^  (Illustration  307)  was  barely  made 
roady  when  a  terrible  storm  burst  over  us.  The  sky 
had  iK'en  clear,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  the  pure  l^lue 
colour  was  wiped  out  by  orange  clouds  of  dust  which 
swept  up  from  the  south-west.  I  was  sitting  in  the  lee 
of  my  tent  when  in  an  instant  the  contents  of  the  brazier 
were  carried  away.  A  heap  of  wild  asses'  dung  which  the 
men  had  collected  also  flew  away,  and  we  saw  the  small 
round  balls  dancing  uj)  the  slopes  as  though  they  were 
racing.  A  henl  of  anteloj)es  cantered  past  our  camj), 
and  their  smooth  coats  shimmered  like  satin  and  velvet 
according  as  the  hair  was  exposed  to  the  wind  and  the 
light.  Again  our  ears  are  filled  with  the  din  of  the 
storm.  I  hurry  inside,  and  hear  from  time  to  time  a 
shout  when  some  j)art  of  the  men's  ttnt  threatens  to  give 
way,  or  the  sound  of  iron  against  iron  when  the  tent-pegs 


IX 


DEATH   OF   THE   LAST   VETERAN  281 


have  to  Ix.'  (Irivrn  in  a^'ain.  or  a  sinRing  dyinR  away  souml 
when  mv  towd  is  siizcd  l)y  the  blast  and  lH)rni'  away 
towards  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  \Vc  mi^ht  Ix.-  on  an 
unsound  vessel  with  the  sails  nai)i)ing  and  Ix-ating  in 
cracking  strii)s,  and  the  mountain  spurs,  which  still  peep 
ol)scurc^v  from  the  mist,  might  Ix'  dangerous  and  threatening 
reefs,  against  which  we  are  to  Ix;  dashed  in  a  moment. 
Grand  and  majestic  is  such  a  storm  when  it  sweeps  over 
the  earth  in  unbridled  fury. 


I 

m 


W^r'Ji 


WW^Mm^^i^ 


■rl^S.: 


CHAPTER    LXI 


9 

1 


''i< 


1^ 


THIRTY   DAYS   OF   STORM 

Ox  February  19  \vc  had  good  country  for  travelling, 
declining  gently  to  tl  shore  of  the  Lemchung-tso,  which 
appeared  in  the  distaiKC.  I  travelled  mostly  on  foot,  as  I 
could  easily  do,  for  the  storm  had  aijated,  but,  as  usual,  we 
were  chilled  through  by  the  wind,  though  the  temperature 
rose  to  2^°  at  one  oMock.  At  the  foot  (jf  some  hills  in 
the  south  we  perceived  numbers  of  black  spots,  which  w 
took  for  tame  yaks.  They  soon  resolved  themselves,  hcnv- 
ever,  into  whole  troops  of  antelopes,  which  sped  in  light 
s])rings  over  the  plain  northwards.  Xow  were  often  seen 
signs  of  the  summer  visits  of  the  Gertse  .•■'i>mads.  We 
had  left  Deasy's  and  Rawling's  routes  a  couple  of  days 
behind  us,  and  now  found  ourselves  on  the  western  margin 
of  one  of  the  largest  blank  spaces  in  the  maj)  of  Tilx-t. 

After  a  grey  horse  had  pi'rished  in  the  night  we  had 
only  ten  animals  left,  or  a  fourth  of  the  original  caravan. 
'I'hey  were  fed  in  the  morning  with  meal  and  spent  tea- 
leaves  in  water,  which  they  swallowed  with  avidity.  Our 
store  of  provisions  would  last  out  barely  a  month. 

We  were  (:  or  7  miles  from  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and 
on  arriving  there  we  encamped  close  to  a  cave  in  which 
a  millstone  and  a  couple  of  yak  hides  had  Ix-en  left  in  the 
summer.  .Mong  the  shore  ran  a  path  worn  by  the  feet  of 
men.  We  stayed  here  a  day  ancl  sorted  out  the  baggage 
again.  All  spare  instruments,  such  as  thermometers, 
measuring  tai)e,  eye-glasses,  etc.,  as  well  as  some  Euro- 
ix-an  garments,  a  couple  of  caps,  bandages,  portfolios,  were 
Sewed  up.  together  with  some  stones,  in  a  sack,  and  sunk 

382 


Cll\l'.    LXl 


THIRTY   DAYS   OF   STORM 


283 


in  a  hole  in  the  ici",  which  covered  the  lake  to  a  depth  of 
nearly  3  feet.  Xtnv  I  had  only  three  changes  of  under- 
clothing left,  one  of  >vhich  might  Ik-  sacriticed  at  the  next 
>orting  out  -  \ve  were  like  a  Ijalloon  from  which  ballast  is 
thrown  out  to  keep  it  in  the  air  till  it  has  crossed  a  sea  and 
has  tirm  ground   Ix'low  it. 

In  the  evening  we  hear  a  whole  orchestra  of  roaring 
winds.  The  air  hurls  it>elf  down  like  cascades  from  the 
mountains  on  to  the  camj),  and  cannot  rush  fast  enough 
over  the  clear  ice  of  the  lake,  where  the  moon  pHnluces 
bright  silvery  streaks  on  the  surface,  while  the  mountains 
show  a  dark  outline  to  the  north.  Grazing  and  fuel  are 
l)lentiful  to-day,  and  therefore  we  are  in  high  spirits. 
The  men  sing,  sometimes  softly  like  a  swinging  lullai)y  or 
rounded  billows  in  a  bay,  sometimes  in  the  wild  and  pas- 
sionate style  of  Asiatics,  and  dance  arouncl  the  fire.  Hut 
when  the  most  violent  gusts  rush  down,  they  pause,  pre- 
pared to  prevent  the  tent  from  falling  over  the  fire.  They 
seem  to  sing  resjjonses  to  the  storm,  and  I  am  pleased 
with  the  i)erformance,  for  it  chases  away  thoughts  of  the 
long  hours  of  solitude,  and  calls  forth  pleasant  dreams  anrl 
hopes  (jf  spring,  warm  winds,  discoveries  and  adventures 
in  Tilxt.  I  wonder  daily  how  this  journey  will  end,  but 
every  (Jay  I  am  a  step  nearer  to  the  answer. 

On  February  22  we  left  the  little  freshwater  lake  on 
our  left  hand,  while  the  Lemchung-tso  proper  extended 
its  partly  frozen  surface  to  the  right.  In  the  middle  the 
water  was  quite  open  and  of  a  dark-green  colour,  and  was 
lashed  into  vapour  by  the  storm.  To  the  east-south-east 
the  country  seemed  favourable  —  an  open  plain,  where 
no  obstacle  came  in  our  way.  In  front  of  us  were  two 
grazing  animals  —  perhaps  yaks  or  wild  asses.  Gulam, 
who  went  in  front,  held  up  a  field -glass  and  reported  that 
they  were  horses.  So  we  were  near  nomads  again.  We 
searched  about  in  every  direction,  but  could  j)erceive  no 
tent.  Had.  perchance,  the  horses  strayed  away?  How- 
ever, thty  were  not  shy,  but  Ix^camc  very  sprightly  when 
thiv  r.Muirht  siL'ht  of  us.  iralloned  straight  to  the  caravan, 
and  greeted  every  horse  and  mule  individually.  After  this 
civility  they  followed  us  all  the  way,  prancing  and  neighing. 


a1 


s^^^s^^m^^^ 


284 


rRANS-IlLMALAYA 


CHAP. 


rir 


I 


They  wtTc  thrt'cycar-old  colts  which  had  never  carried  a 
sad<lle  or  a  load  fat,  fresh,  and  nimble-footed,  very  dilTerent 
from  (jur  last  three  horses.  When  we  encamped  they  went 
of!  to  the  south  and  were  lost  to  sijjht.  The  storm  increasnl 
in  violence,  and  our  last  iron  spade  and  a  kettle  were  carried 
away  by  the  wind,  but  were  afterwards  recovered. 

February  23.  The  thermometer  sank  to  —  ig.8°.  Our 
last  ten  animals  matle  a  short  day's  march  alon^  the  same 
easy  valley.  I  could  perceive  no  trace  of  the  "Snowy 
Range"  of  Knglish  maps  in  the  prolongation  of  this  valley. 
We  observed  a  couple  of  tents  in  the  mouth  of  a  valley  to 
the  north,  but  we  were  now  in  no  distress.  I  lived  exclu- 
sively on  tea,  bread,  and  jam,  of  which  there  were  still  two 
pots  left. 

The  storm  continued  ;  xt  day  also.  Wc  seldom 
covered  more  than  6  or  7  miles.  In  the  i)ast  month  we 
had  travelled  220  miles,  30  more  than  in  the  previous 
month.  During  the  evening  and  night  the  snow  pelted 
on  to  our  tents.  I  still  had  my  warm  comfortable  lx?d,  but 
at  a  pinch  it  would  also  go  jnecemeal  into  the  fire.  Every- 
thing that  was  discarded  was  burned  or  buried,  lest,  if  it 
were  left,  it  might  arouse  suspicions. 

For  another  day's  march  we  had  the  advantage  of  this 
fine  longitudinal  valley,  which  imperceptibly  rises  to  a  flat 
threshoKl,  Ix'yond  which  we  passed  a  gold  placer.  The 
holes  from  which  the  auriferous  sand  is  extracted  are  3  to 
16  feet  in  diameter,  and  little  more  than  3  feet  deep.  It  is 
evident  that  some  of  them  have  been  digged  out  last 
summer.  A  little  farther  down  gold  had  Ix-en  searched  for 
sometime  ago.  Folds,  stone  shelters  for  marksmen,  and 
stone  cairns  were  to  be  seen  in  several  i)laces. 

Still  lower  down  wc  came,  on  the  fc)llowing  day,  to  a 
third  placer,  situated  where  the  valley  contracts  to  a  trough. 
Here  large  sheepf(ilds  and  abundant  tracks  of  men  were 
found.  The  golcl  is  washed  out  on  flat  stones  in  a  flume  100 
yards  long.  The  valley  aftcrwarrls  contracts  to  a  breadth  of 
5  yards,  and  the  bottom  is  mostly  filled  with  ice,  here  and 
there  forming  ledges.  Thi  e  had  to  be  levelled  with  axes 
and  strewn  with  sand,  and  each  animal  was  led  and  held 
up  by  men.     We  could  not  afford  to  let  any  one  of  them 


^^SE'^^lXt^E^SSSS^aE 


••     ** 


1 


"WiAi--  ^JS2,5ai 


^i;,   ,Tj,   ;i;.    ;!'■.    ;i7       Twukwix^    h<om    ihi     I'wii'^    ;i^, 

IN      IHI       I     \^l       lU'i.      ^||\     K\\',~ll\\t 

Allir  W.ittT-l'  .l.iur  ^kil   hv~   l.\    ilu-    Auili  ,r 


.').    ^(>. 


I 


'I 


i:n 


|t: 


LXI 


THIRTY   DAYS   OF   SToRM 


285 


briak  his  U<^  and  \k-  lost  to  us.  Thin  the  in-  ranu-  to 
an  ind,  the  valK  v  oixnid  out,  and  wc  pitihol  our  ttnt-> 
in  an  rxtmsivc  tlat.  Towards  the  cast  thr  land  was  all 
favoural.lf,  and  no  "Snowy  Ranni-"  sI(mk1  in  our  way. 
\\\  lould  sec  25  miles  ahead.  Tubgis  shot  five  hans 
and  we  had  a  fea^t  that  evening'.  A  pack  of  wolves 
howled  round  the  camj)    at  nif^ht. 

Fchruary  27.  A  thousand  wil<l  asses  were  seen  on 
the  j)lain  which  sloped  down  gently  to  the  east-south- 
east. They  formed  dark  lines,  sometimes  large,  some- 
times small,  sometimes  spots  like  a  rosary.  S(jme  herds 
gallojK'd  otT  to  a  j)<;int  ai)out  two  hundred  yards  in  front 
of  the  caravan,  where  they  stcxxl  and  gazed  and  then 
di>persed,  springing  away  in  graceful  movements.  Perhaps 
they  were  here  for  a  great  spring  congress,  to  decide 
questions  relating  to  their  territory  and  pastures.  It  is 
certain  that,  like  the  nomads,  they  migrate  at  fixed 
seasons,  for  they  alst)  are  dependent  on  the  occurrence  of 
grass  and  its  varying  abundance  at  different  heights  and 
different  times  of  the  year. 

Farther  down  the  plain,  l)eyond  a  small  cliff,  were  five 
herds  of  kiangs,  the  nearest  of  which  numlKTed  133  heail. 
They  came  gallo|)ing  almost  up  to  us.  Lobsang  ran 
towards  them.  Then  they  set  off  in  wild  flight  one  after 
another,  their  hooves  thundering  over  the  grounil,  made  a 
wide  curve  Khind  us,  and  vanished  in  a  dense  cloud  of 
dust,  the  hard  U-at  of  their  hooves  Ixing  still  audible.  A 
strong  puff  of  wind  dispersed  the  cloud,  and  they  came 
into  sight  again;  they  stood  quaking  with  fear,  and  looked 
at  us.  pricked  up  their  cars,  dilated  their  nostrils,  and 
sniffed   the   wind. 

To  the  south  of  our  route  we  perceived  two  tents 
among  small  scattered  heights  Alxlul  Kerim  and  two 
men  went  off  to  them  while  we  pitched  camp  341.  On 
their  return  they  reported  that  the  tents  were  the  property 
of  a  certain  Tsering  Ngorpel  from  Gertse,  who  had  come 
hither  with  his  family  for  two  months  and  was  going  Ixick 
in  a  month.    They  were  p<x)r  people,  and  owned  only  70 

_U,      .-       -t-    I        T-      t  f       ,--1--  I       -       ,1 TV.,.      «,.;.. V>l.^Mii-Virvv>fl 

^n^.•ei;    iirul    guatb,  0    )UKi>,    uiis;    i    -i'^o-      •*■'"-    "t-'o"'-"-"-" "-"--■ 

of  camp   341    the   man  called   Senes-yung-ringmo,   and   he 


< 


286 


TRAXS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


said  that  if  \vc  marched  south-eastwards  we  should  almost 
daily  meet  with  nomads  from  Gertse  and  Senkor,  districts 
in  the  M)uth  which  I  had  passed  through  in  1901.  They 
were  afraid  of  uur  men  and  would  not  let  them  enter  the 
tents.  Two  fine  ^herp  and  a  lump  of  butter  were  bought, 
and  rescued  us  from  starvation  for  a  time.  The  hare  meat 
was  discarded  and  given  to  the  dogs. 

We  made  the  two  sheep  carry  themselves  our  newly- 
acquired  store  of  meat  to  camp  342 ;  we  had  no  room  for 
extra  loads.  We  mounted  slowly  to  a  flat  pass.  Three 
tents  stood  in  a  side  valley  and  some  men  came  out  to 
l(jok.  at  us,  but  we  j)assed  on  without  exchanging  questions 
and  answers.  On  February  29  the  wintl  raged  furiously 
all  day  long.  Clouds  swe])t  ceaselessly  over  the  country, 
and  at  one  o'clock  the  temperature  was  22.1°,  quite  low 
enough  to  chill  a  rider  down  to  the  bones  and  marrow. 

In  front  of  us  lay  a  large  flat  hollow,  in  the  midst  of 
which  two  small  lakis  shone  white  with  ice.  We  slowly 
ap])roached  tlie  istlimus  Ix'twcen  them.  A  herd  of  antelopes 
took  to  flight  and  nearly  fell  over  a  lonely  wild  ass,  which 
looked  at  them  uneasilv,  !)Ut  at  the  last  moment  thev 
turned  oiT  in  another  direction  as  though  they  were  afraid 
of  him.  On  the  kft,  in  a  deep  trough  running  towards 
the  lake,  a  flock  oi  sheep  was  driven  along  by  two 
shepherds.  Wait  one  moment.  Hand  me  the  turban, 
(lulam  wound  it  round  my  head,  and  then  I  went  on  foot 
like  the  rest.  Along  the  shore  a  young  man  was  driving 
six  yaks.  .Mxlul  Kerim  and  Gulam  went  up  to  him  while 
we  set  uj)  the  tents  on  the  shore  (15,200  feet). 

After  a  while  thev  returned  with  the  vak-drivcr,  a  bov  of 
fourteen  in  a  large  white  skin  h()<xl.  He  was  terribly 
frightened,  and  could  with  difficulty  be  persuaded  to  come 
to  our  tents;  our  intention  was  that  he  should  guide  two 
of  our  men  to  his  dwelling.  He  called  the  lake  Lumbur- 
ringmo.  As  my  disguise  was  now  complete,  I  went  to 
look  at   the  Ijoy,  who  did   not  seem  at  all  suspicious. 

Lobsang  and  Tubges  followed  the  Ixiy  to  his  tent,  and 
after  a  long  time  returned  with  unwelcome  news.  Two 
Tiktans  had  rushai  out  of  th  tent,  stopped  them,  and 
asked     ri)Ughly     what     they     wanted.     They     replied     very 


i^i  -ficgu  iS^Jl—lui 


II 


THIRTY  DAYS  OF  STORM 


287 


quietly  that  they  wished  to  buy  food ;   but  there  was  nothing 
of  the  kind  for  sale. 

"But  who  are  you?"  an  elderly  man  asked. 

"We  are  Ladakis  in  the  service  of  a  merchant,  and  we 
are  on  the  way  to  Saka-dzong,"  they  answered. 

"Xo,"  the  Tilx.'tan  exclaimed;  "you  lie.  No  merchant 
travels  this  way,  least  of  all  in  winter;  there  is  no  trade  in 
Chang-tang." 

"We  are  not  trading,"  Lobsang  replied;  "we  are 
commissioned  to  inquire  how  much  sheep's  wool  can  be 
bought    up    next    summer." 

"Sheep's  wool — in  uninhabited  districts!  Xo;  you 
are  servants  of  a  European,  who  keeps  himself  out  of  sight 
in  one  of  your  tents.  Out  with  the  truth,  or  it  will  be  bad 
for  you." 

"Ask  the  boy  here,"  returned  Lobsang  in  his  most 
innocent  tone,  "if  he  saw  any  European  in  our  tent.  We 
abhor  Europeans  as  heartily  as  you.  If  you  doubt  us, 
you  can  come  to  our  tents  and  see  for  yourself." 

"Xo,  thank  you;  we  will  not  come  to  your  tent,"  the 
old  man  answered,  ai  disappeared  with  his  people  behind 
the  black   hangings. 

Lobsang  was  very  serious  \  en  he  CdTic  back,  and 
proposed  that,  if  we  had  not  already  come  to  1  standstill, 
we  should  in  future  set  up  our  camp  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  nomads.  I  was  alarmed,  and  I  had  a  feeling  that 
we  should  not  advance  much  farther  into  the  forbidden 
land.  It  was  also  disappointing  to  be  so  openly  suspected 
to  be  a  European. 

Xow  good  advice  was  precious,  for  evidently  the 
nomads  would  betray  us  to  the  nearest  authorities.  At 
the  evening's  lesson  in  Tilx'tan,  which  occupied  some 
hours,  I  discussed  the  situation  with  L(jbsang  and  Kutus. 
It  was  resolved  that  Abdul  Kerim  should  go  early  in  the 
morning  to  the  tent,  and  if  the  nomads  were  still  hostil- 
we  would  try  to  lengthen  our  day's  march  so  as  to  g 
out  of  the  way  of  a  probable  summons  to  stop. 

This  time  Lobsang  met  with  a  better  reception,  as  he 
could  {)resent  our  chief  and  leader,  whom  the  nomads 
correctly    addressed    as    bombo.     The    old    man    introduced 


» 
f  ' 

i 


i>.'l 


fi 


2  88 


TRAXS-IIIMALAVA 


u 


■  % 

II 


himself  under  the  name  of  Sof^barong  Tsering  Tundup  — 
So.L^lwronK  is  his  home  in  the  west,  and  this  name  is 
pliued  before  his  own  much  as  Anders  I'ersson  i  Stor- 
f^arden.  The  old  man  invited  his  j^uests  into  his  tent, 
took  a  coui)le  of  sheejj's  trotters,  cut  them  in  jMeccs  with 
an  axe.  threw  them  into  the  caldron,  and  (jlTered  some  broth 
to  Abdul  Kerim.  saying  it  was  the  only  tea  he  had. 
In  the  tent  were  five  antelopes  cut  up.  a  ^un-  a  knife,  and 
other  articles.  The  okl  man  did  not  this  time  express  any 
susj)icions  of  us,  but  related  that  a  European  with  a  large 
caravan  had  crossed  the  country  to  the  east  more  than  a 
year  ago.  He  did  not  suspect,  of  course,  that  that  same 
EurojK'an  was  hiding  in  one  of  our  tents.  When  the 
messengers  came  back  they  had  a  fine  fat  sheep  and  a  can 
of  milk  with  them. 

This  day,  March  i,  the  wind  was  so  strong  that  it  was 
impossible  "to  travel.  My  tent  fell  over  and  was  held  fast 
by  the  load  of  sand  and  stones  on  its  folds.  Not  a  trace 
of  the  surroundings  was  visible,  and  I  should  have  obtained 
no  notion  of  country  on  the  route.  At  two  o'clock  Tsering 
Tundu])  and  another  Tilx'tan  came  to  return  the  visit.  They 
emerged  from  the  mist  only  when  they  were  close  at  hand, 
and  a  couple  of  men  hastened  to  jjrotect  them  from  the  dogs. 
The  visit  was  a  c<jniplete  surprise,  but  there  was  nothing 
which  could  excite  the  least  suspicion.  My  things  were 
crammeil  into  a  sack  and  I  was  disguised  as  usual;  indeed, 
I  had  now  no  other  clothing  to  put  on.  Even  if  they 
had  come  and  lookeel  into  my  tent  there  would  have  been 
no  danger. 

Our  guests  had  capacicius  sheepskin  coats  drawn  up 
alx)ve  the  belt  so  as  to  form  the  usual  protruding  bag 
where  a  large  part  of  their  p'-operty  is  stored.  They  wore 
hoods  of  sheepskin  and  looked  like  Samoyeds  or  Chukchis. 
They  stoixl  awhile  and  chatted  with  our  men  in  the  wind, 
but  I  did  not  hear  a  word,  though  they  were  standing  only 
3  vards  from  the  loop-hole  in  my  tent  through  which 
I  was  watching  them.  After  some  hesitation,  they  w'cnt 
into  Alidul  Kerim's  tent,  and  thi-n  the  vak  ciuestion  was 
discu>sed.  They  had  only  si.x  yaks  which  they  required  for 
their  own  journeys,  but  if  we  would  buy  sheep,  they  would 


'I'HIRTV    DAYS   OF   STORM 


2S9 


let  us  have  as  many  as  tux-lvc,  and  each  sheep  could  easily 
carry  a  fifth  part  of  a  mule's  loacl.  The  offer  was  accepted 
with  pleasure,  and  the  price  was  fixed  at  38  rupees.  Then 
they  went  off  through  the  storm  and  I  felt  safe  again. 

The  purchase  was  concluded  on  March  2.  and  the 
twelve  sheep  stood  with  their  heads  together  in  the 
shelter  of  the  men's  tent.  To  start  on  our  travels  was 
impossible,  for  we  could  not  have  kept  our  legs  in  such  a 
storm.  We  therefore  remained  here  another  day,  and  the 
men  had  full  occupation  in  sewing  sacks  for  the  sheep, 
arranging  and  weighing  the  loads.  I  was  worse  off,  for 
I  had  nothing  to  do  and  nothing  to  read,  but  I  sat  and 
wrote  Tilxtan  notes  and  entered  new  words  in  my 
lexicon.  Then  I  heard  a  hasty  step  coming  towards  my 
tent;  it  was  Kunchuk  bringing  fire.  .\  rustle,  an  oath, 
all  the  contents  are  swept  c^ut  of  the  shovel,  and  the  man 
has  to  crawl  back  to  the  camp-fire  for  more  embers.  So 
the  day  passes  and  the  storm  roars,  and  every  one  is 
weary  and  listless. 

During  these  stormy  days  our  animals  lay  for  the  most 
part  (quietly  in  a  hollow  where  they  were  sheltered  from 
the  wind.  The  storm  kept  them  from  grazing,  and  they 
were  much  enfeebled  by  fasting.  A  white  mule,  therefore, 
remained  Ix'hind  at  Lumbur-ringmo-tso  when  we  moved 
off  south-ea-lwards  on  March  3  with  3  horses,  6  mules, 
and  12  sneej),  delighted  that  we  had  passed  this  critical 
point  with  a  whole  skin.  Freshwater  springs  formed 
a  number  (jf  picturesque  ice  volcanoes  on  the  shore 
of  the  small  lake.  Ik-fore  we  encami)ed  Ix-hind  a  pro- 
jecting clifT,  we  met  three  large  flocks  of  sheep  with  their 
shepherds.  On  such  occasions  I  always  went  on  foot. 
The  new  sheep  all  carried  burdens,  and  gave  invaluable 
help  to  our  tired  animals.  They  were  tied  up  every  night 
between  the  tents  that  they  might  Ix;  safe  from  wolves, 
and  the  yellow  dog  from  Gartok  proved  an  excellent  guard. 
They  bleated  piteously  the  first  evening,  probably  dis- 
tressed at  leaving  their  native  country.  I  was  sorry  for 
them,  for  they  had  Ixen  treated  as  cruelly  as  Uncle  Tom, 
but  in  time  they  bcf  ume  ijuile  uceUslumed  lu  their  new 
way  of  life. 

VOL.    11  V 


!'  I 

■  i 


290 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


It 


Violent  storms  prevailed  all  day  and  all  the  following 
day,  on  which  \vc  passed  two  black  tents.  At  every  camp 
we  had  to  take  the  greatest  care  that  no  pieces  of  pa|x;r, 
match-lxxxes,  candle  ends,  or  cigarette  stumps  were  left 
lying  about,  for  we  might  Ik-  sure  that  the  Tibetans  dwell- 
ing near  woukl  come  and  search  alxjut  after  we  had  left 
the  spot.  Our  route  took  us  over  a  low  pass  (16,030  feet). 
The  rocks  comprised  weathered  schists,  quartzite,  and 
granite  -  the  last  only  in  detached  blocks.  On  the  other 
side  we  followed  a  deeply  excavated  valley  opening  out 
on  to  a  |)lain,  and  we  were  just  setting  up  our  tent  by  a 
{)rojecting  rock  when  two  large  black  dogs  came  running 
towards  us  barking.  Nomads,  therefore,  were  encamping 
in  the  neighlx)urho(>l,  and  we  must  Ix'  on  our  guard. 
Alxlul  Kerim,  who  always  showed  himself  prudent  and 
tactful  in  delicate  negotiations,  went  off  to  a  tent  which 
stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock  and  was  inhabited 
by  four  Senkor  nomads  who  owned  4CX3  sheep.  The 
chief  of  them  was  named  Shgoge,  and  sold  us  three  sheep 
at  3  rupees  a  head,  some  butter  and  milk.  He  said  that 
the  country  here,  around  cor^i)  345,  was  called  Pankur,  and 
that  we  were  three  days'  journey  from  the  encampment  of 
the  Gertsc  Pun,  or  the  chief  of  (krtse.  With  him,  however, 
we  had  nothing  to  ilo.  It  was  to  our  interest  to  avoid  as 
much  as  possible  officials  of  all  kinds,  not  to  approach 
Gertsc  or  Senkor  in  the  west  too  closely,  and  not  too  near 
my  route  of  1906  to  the  east.  We  must  steer  our  way 
through  many  |)itfalls.  Just  in  this  district  we  crossed  the 
meridian  of  84°  E.,  and  my  plan  was  to  travel  due  south 
from  the  Tong-tso  right  across  the  large  blank  space. 
The  continual  storms  which  had  done  us  so  much  harm, 
were  so  far  advantageous  to  us  that  they  enabled  us  to 
cross  the  great  wastes  without  being  much  noticed.  This 
day  all  was  hazy  from  the  dust,  and  our  neighlK)ur's  sheep, 
which  passed  my  tent  in  long  columns  with  shepherds  and 
dogs,  made  a  very  curious  spectacle  in  the  dense  mist. 

March  5.  Abdul  Kerim  obtained  two  more  sheep,  and 
now  we  had  seventeen  to  help  the  mules  and  horses.  Our 
iiileiiliuii  was  to  increase  our  sheep  caravan  by  degrees, 
and    make    ourselves    independent    of    the    other    animals. 


THIRTY   DAYS   OF   STORM 


291 


VVc  must  pIso  have  a  spare  horse  for  Alxlu!  Kerim,  for 
he  was  our  master,  and  it  was  inconf,'ruous  that  he  shoukl 
go  on  foot  while  I,  a  simple  caravan  man,  rode.  This  day 
we  had  the  storm  at  our  back,  and  we  travelled  8j  miles 
over  the  same  even,  excellent  ground  which  had  made 
progress  easier  since  we  left  Lemchung-tso.  We  encamped 
at  a  sheepfold  and  enjoyed  the  feeling  that  there  were  no 
neighlx)urs  to  spy  on  us.  A  sheep  was  slaughtered ;  only 
the  worst  were  sacrificed  for  f(xxl,  and  were  to  be  replaced 
by  new  ones  when  an  opportunity  presented  itself. 


CI  I A  PIER   LXII 


■  1 


i 

I  III 


ADVF.NTURES  OF   OURSI.I.VKS   AND   PUPPY   IN  NAGRON'G 

On  Manh  6  \vc  made  another  lio])  towards  our  destination. 
It  is  dillkult  to  trawl  over  tlu'  hi<^h  plateaus  of  TiU't  in 
winter,  and  we  could  not  march  more  than  four  hours  a 
clay.  The  morning  was  clear,  lait  we  had  not  gone  far 
bevond  a  small  lake,  with  its  mantle  of  ice  covered  with 
driftsand  and  dust,  before  the  storm  increased  in  violence 
and  made  me  reel  in  the  sadille.  The  clouds  of  dust 
became  thicker,  the  sandsjxjuts  were  dark  reddish  brown 
at  the  base,  and  the  gusts  tore  up  furrows  in  the  ground 
like  plough-hares,  while  frequently  spiral  forms  were  seen 
which  could  only  Ik.-  prcHluced  by  cyclonic  whirlwinds.  On 
the  left  hand  shimmered  a  lake,  its  surface  partly  white 
with  gypsum  and  salt,  partly  streaked  brown  with  drift- 
sand,  and  with  open  water  only  in  two  places;  it  was  the 
ghost  of  a  lake  which   was  doomed   to  disapjK'ar. 

Two  built-up  fireplaces  served  us  ca])itally  for  a  camp- 
ing-ground on  the  shore  where  the  grazing  was  good. 
On  the  eastern  side  of  the  lake  was  a  brick-red  ridge  of 
medium  height,  which  I  wished  to  ]xunt  in  order  to  record 
the  elTertive  tones  in  the  dust  mi>t.  I  waited  for  the 
others  with  Kutus  and  Gulam,  and  we  had  scarcely  induced 
a  fire  to  burn  Ixfore  the  storm  rose  at  noon  to  a  hurricane. 
?\'ow  everything  vani^hed  lake,  ridge,  all  except  the 
neanst  tufts  of  grass.  The  fire  was  fenced  in  with  stones 
and  clods  lest  it  should  1k'  blown  away,  sand  and  minute 
]>eb')ks  lH.'at  ag;'iin-t  mv  d.rv  skin  ro.it,  ;'.nd,  T  had  to  rover 
all  my  face,  for  the  skin  smarted  as  though  lashed  by  whip- 
cord, if  it  were  exposed  f(jr  a  second  to  the  wind.     Fortu- 


-ic3^i3BKSSf^^dSr: 


CHAP.    LXII 


ADVLXIURES   I\   NAGROXG 


293 


natcly  the  othirs  madt-  their  way  to  us.  rCvery  man  had 
to  lend  a  hand  to  raise  my  tent.  At  lenj^th  (Julam  came 
crawling  backwards  and  yelled  into  my  ear  that  the  tent 
was  ready.  With  straddling'  le^s  and  all  my  muscles  on 
the  stretch  I  fought  my  way  to  it,  and  was  glad  to  catch 
hold  of  a  tent  roj)e  iK'fore  I  was  blown  down.  At  last  I 
was  under  cover  and  could  recover  my  breath.  The  tent 
cloth  was  jnilTed  out  like  a  balloon,  and  threatened  evei> 
moment  to  burst  with  a  rejxirt.  The  sand  and  rubbish 
Ix-at  upon  it,  pnxlucing  a  deafening  noise.  It  was  as  dark 
as  at  twilight,  and  the  wind  roared  and  whined  through  the 
grass.  The  men  tried  to  set  up  their  own  tent,  but  when 
the  wind  had  overturned  it  twice  they  let  it  lie,  weighting 
it  with  the  baggage  that  it  might  not  fly  away.  Five 
Ladakis  lay  in  the  lee  of  my  tent  rolled  up  like  hedgehogs, 
and  I  let  them  come  in,  where  they  sat  silent  and  motion- 
less for  a  coU]ile  of  hours.  The  others  had  crept  under 
the  ruins  of  their  unfortunate  tent.  Puppy  and  Little 
Puppy  lay  in  a  corner  and  kept  each  other  warm.  How- 
ever, the  tem])erature  was  35.8°,  ami  we  had  not  had  such 
warmth  for  three  months.  A  long  and  dismal  evening! 
It  was  with  dilTiculty  I  got  a  piece  of  bread,  a  cuj)  of  tea, 
and  a  piece  of  dried  meat.  We  were  deaf  and  dizzy  when 
at  length  we  sought  repose  under  our  rugs,  while  the  storm 
continued  to  rage  outside. 

I  awoke  to  hear  the  same  (jld  music,  and  to  go  out  to 
my  horse  was  like  plunging  into  icy  cold  water.  Neither 
the  sky  nor  the  horizon  was  visible,  and  the  mountains 
were  dim  shadows.  With  Kutus  and  Gulam  I  led  the 
way.  following  a  path  tHxlden  by  men.  Dork,  chill,  and 
doleful  was  the  land  of  eternal  twilight,  frost,  and  the 
wicked  demons  of  the  air.  After  a  march  of  8  miles 
we  halted  at  the  edge  of  a  Ix-lt  of  ice,  a  frozen  stream  in 
several  branches,  wliich  ran  to  the  south-west.  The  gale 
flew  over  the  clear  sheet  of  ice,  and  the  red  dust  was  swept 
over  it  like  flames.  With  the  a-^sistance  of  Kutus  I  slided 
over  to  the  other  side,  and  in  the  shelter  of  the  opening  of 
a  small  valley  we  made  the  usual  fire. 

Tile  laravan  canic  to  the  edge  of  the  ice.  It  was  im- 
possible  to   sand   a   path,    for   the   grains   would   have   Ix'en 


^  'I 


'^3E£^'^«e^^K2a^sia^sBt;sa!¥rr«'^s 


■  "^  i^^fff'fr*^^--'^  ^■^.- 


--^^'ssat     -A.^9*4s*='-'^ 


294 


TRA\S-H  I  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


fi  H 

f 


swept  away.  The  animals  were  led  across  singly,  each 
helped  over  by  several  men.  For  all  that  a  mule  fell  and 
Rave  a  fearful  wrench  to  one  of  its  hind  left's,  and  with 
great  dilTkulty  it  was  heli)ed  up  to  the  camp.  All  of  us 
had  grey  distorted  faces,  our  eyes  ran,  full  of  sand  and 
dust.  My  lips  bled  and  my  teeth  were  black.  March  is 
the  worst  month,  but  we  had  never  e.xperienced  such  bad 
weather  Ix'fore.  What  is  the  use  of  looking  forward  to 
spring  when  the  days  are  darker  as  time  goes  on? 

The  injured  mule  had  evidently  dislocated  its  leg.  It 
was  thrown  down  and  a  rope  was  fastened  round  its  hoof 
and  the  end  was  pulled  by  the  men.  When  it  was  at  full 
stretch  Lobsang  hit  the  rope  hard  with  a  tent  jjole  in  order 
to  set  the  dislocated  joint  in  place  again,  but  I  could  not 
perceive  that  the  operation  had  any  elTect.  No;  the  mule 
was  lost  to  us  just  when  wo  could  ill  afford  to  lose  one  of 
our  l)est  animals. 

Antl  it  was  lost  indeed,  for  on  the  morning  of  March  8 
it  could  not  take  a  stej).  It  was  sad  to  pass  the  death 
sentence,  and  a  pitiful  sight  when  the  fresh  warm  Hood 
spurted  out  in  powerful  jets  and  moistened  the  barren  soil. 
It  lay  quiet  and  patiently,  and  after  a  few  convulsions 
expireil,  and  was  left  in  solitude  when  we  moved  on  over 
the  dreary  waste. 

But  Ix'fore  starting  I  had  asccnrlcd  a  hill  and  looked 
around.  W'hich  was  more  expedient  —  to  travel  north-cast 
or  south-west?  Both  directions  lay  out  of  our  course.  I 
decided  for  the  south-west,  and  hastened  down  to  my  tent, 
where  Gulam  served  up  breakfast.  Brown  Puppy  and 
Little  Puppy  gave  me  their  company  to  get  their  share. 
Little  Puppy  had  grown  so  much  that  he  coukl  do  what  he 
liked  with  his  mother.  When  I  gave  her  a  piece  of  meat 
the  young  one  flew  upon  her  and  took  it  away.  I  had  to 
hold  Little  Puppy  that  his  mother  might  cat  in  peace. 
When  we  set  out,  Puppy  ond  the  yellov  dog  remained 
iK'hind  with  the  slaughtered  mule,  flnding  a  convenient 
point  of  departure  in  an  open  wound  in  the  soft  muscles  of 
the  neck.  There  they  stood  gorging  when  we  started  along 
the  ice  l)elt  of  the  stream  towards  the  south  west. 

With    my    usual    followers    I    rode    in    advance.    The 


ADVENTURES  IN  NAGRONG 


295 


sufTocatinp.  blindins:,  deafening  storm  was  riRht  in  our 
fares.  CJulam  walked  in  front,  stopjK'd.  looked  throuRh 
the  field-glass,  and  gave  me  the  sign  to  dismount.  The 
stream  swept  round  the  foot  of  a  clitT  in  front  of  us. 

"What   is   it?"    I   asked    Gulam   when   we   came   up   to 

him. 

"A  large  stone  hou^e  with  a  wall  and  a  couple  of 
smaller  huts.  Thev  are  not  visible  at  this  moment 
k-cause  of  the  mist',  t)Ut  they  lie  close  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountain." 

"Yes;    now   they  can   be   seen.     It    is   strange   that   no 

dogs  rush  at  us." 

"What  is  to  l)c  done?  Shall  wc  turn  kick?  Surely 
a  chieftain  lives  here,  and  he  will  come  and  search  us 
down  to  the  skin." 

"No;    it    is    too    late,    for    we    must    have    been    seen 

alreadv." 

How  I  regretted  that  we  had  not  travelled  to  the 
north-east!  But  we  must  put  on  a  good  face  in  our 
unlucky  situation.  Wc  passed  the  village  at  a  distance  of 
loo  va'rds,  and  halted  in  the  shelter  of  the  dark  {)orphyry 
crag  crowned  by  two  chhortcns  and  a  mani.  At  least  it  was 
pleasant  to  get  shelter  for  a  moment.  It  was  like  taking 
refuge  in  a  gateway  when  it  [)ours.  All  around  was  dead 
and  dreary;  no  one  was  setn ;  only  a  couple  of  jackdaws 
croaked,  and  a  hare  sped  out  of  its  form  so  near  us  that 
we  could  have  caught  it  with  the  hand  if  wc  had  ken 
alert.  Kutus  and  Gulam  went  out  to  gather  fuel.  I 
searched  the  sus[)icious  neighk^urhood  with  the  field -glass, 
where  treachery  seemtnl  to  lurk  khind  every  projection. 
It  cleared  a  little  towards  the  south-east,  enough  for  me  to 
detect  a  black  tent  of  unusual  size  al)<)ut  200  yards  ofT. 
Four  strings  with  prayer  streamers  were  stretched  out 
from  a  high  pole.  I  had  ken  in  hopes  that  we  should 
get  past  the  first  dwellings,  as  no  dogs  had  shown  them- 
selves, but  I  had  never  heard  of  an  uninhabited  tent. 
And  the  outward  appearance  of  this  tent  indicated  the 
presence  of  an  important  chief.  Thanks  to  the  mist,  we 
nitii  siumi>icn  lignt  on  10  ii;;-.  (.uii;[/,  <•,.,•■■.  ■."•.  •.•.uui-:  ::■■.  '-^ 
caught  napping  by  poor  strolling  Ladakis. 


396 


'IR.WS-inMAI.AVA 


rn  \r. 


.Hi 


I) 


(Iiilam  hail  Ikih  to  tlu'  liirt;c  house,  the  yard  door 
of  wliii  li  stoinl  u|Hn,  and  liad  found  in  a  >hvA  a  hirj^'c 
f|uantity  of  futl  of  a  kind  of  shrul)  the  TiUtans  lall  omho. 
So  Wf  waited  atid  uaitnl,  txpictinj^  to  sec  the  caravan 
emiTi^'i'  from  tin-  mist,  but  when  nothinj^  was  heard  of  it 
Kutus  "nt  out  to  -earth.  It  had  wandered  quite  out  of 
it>  course,  and  had  macje  a  lonj,'  (ireuit  mund  thi'  hou>e 
and  tent,  for  tlie  leadirs  wert-  convinced  that  I  wished  to 
shp  l)y  unnoticed.  .\  horse  luid  fallen,  and  now  we  had 
only  2  left,  and  5  mules  out  of  40  animals. 

The  three  tents  were  si't  up  in  a  line  close  tof,'ether, 
and  Aljdul  Kerim  went  with  Kunchuk  to  the  lar^'e  tent. 
We  saw  through  the  mist  that  a  man  came  out  to  meet 
them,  and  that  all  three  went  into  the  tent,  and  then  we 
waited  with  our  hearts  in  our  mouths.  .  .ie  men  returned 
at  dusk  with  ,^o(h1  news.  The  tent  was  inhabited  hv  a 
lonely  old  .\mi  hi  lania,  i.e.  a  monk-doctor,  who  at  the 
same  time  looked  after  the  souls  of  the  .\a<^ron<^  nomads, 
determined  from  astroloj^iud  books  the  lucky  and  unluckv 
days  for  baptisms  and  other  affairs,  and  assisted  people 
nith  the  same  remedies  when  they  were  sick,  died,  and 
finally  were  buried.  lie  was  from  Sera  in  Lhasa,  and  had 
lived  three  years  in  Xat^ronj,'.  The  tent  was  a  movable 
tem])Ie.    furnislied   inside   with  altars,   burnin;.;   butter  lamps, 

and    votive    l)owIs,    where    the    hermit    performed    service 

we  heard  him  beatint;  a  tem])le  drum  at  midnight.  It 
Ix'longed,  as  well  as  the  lar<;e  house,  to  the  Gertse  Pun 
Bombo.  or  the  chief  of  the  (iertse  district,  who  a  few  days 
before  had  <4one  off  a  day's  journey  to  the  east,  with  his 
flocks,  children,  and  all.  but  was  soon  expected  back  in 
consequence  of  a  dispute  Ix'tween  two  of  his  subjects. 
Perha[)s,  after  all,  it  was  well  we  travelled  south-west 
instead  of  north-east,  for  we  might  have  fallen  into  the 
jaws  of  the  (lertse  Pun  himself.  This  potentate  comes  to 
Xagrong  in  late  summer  and  takes  up  his  abcnle  in  the 
stone  house,  while  a  hundred  nomad  tents  are  set  uj) 
around  and  a  fair   is  held. 

The-  old  lama  had  no  servants,  but  every  third  dav  a 
infill  canie  to  iniiig  him  wood.  He  must  find  it  dull  in 
the  long  winter  evenings,  when  he  hears  the  storm  roaring 


LXtl 


ADVKXTrUKS    I.\    WC.RoSC 


297 


t!iin    ar    niil 


th 


(■     ''(mIs    who 


wf  hi-,  drum   with  ;i   ^\\\u 


(»ut>i<U'.  anil  ^ikTici'  rn^N 
answiT  h'y-^  prayci-.  ami  ihr  lul 
of  rrconcili.itio'n.  Hul  pmlMliIy  he  i-  a  |ihil<.v)i)hi  r  aii<l 
ha>  no  frar  of  ihr  (lan^r-,  <.t'  tiir  ni  ht.  In  hi-  triit  lay 
Mvcr.l  suks  full  of  h'linh'i.  liailry,  rid-,  and  hutUr,  liut  lii- 
had  no  authority  to  -mII  anything'  without  tin-  ]>cTiiiis>ion 
of  the  (M-rtsv  i'un.  Instead,  In-  [.ointi'd  out  wluTr  the 
tint  of  thi-  I'un'>  hrothir  in  i.iw  stood,  wIkti  all  kinds  of 
prime  ^o(xls  could   he  hoULjht. 

W'c  therefore  di(idcd  to  remain  v  hiTe  wi-  wire  over 
March  9,  and  Alxlul  Kerii::  with  hree  attendants  sou^'ht 
out  the  brother  in  law,  met  with  a  friendly  reieptinn,  and 
bought  five  sheep  and  two  f,'oats.  bi  >ides  t"o  >heep  loads 
of  rice  and  as  much  barley,  and  aUo  a  ba^  of  tobacco, 
which  the  men  had  Ion,-;  'anted.  .All  day  long  I  was  a 
prisoner  in  my  tent;  my  oeriod  of  freedom  was  over. 
And  when  the  evening  came  and  enveloped  the  dreary 
Xagrong  valley  in  its  shadows.  I  could  think  of  nothing 
else  but  my  old  trusty  comrade,  the  oldest  of  all  that  had 
l)een  with  me  in  Tili.  t.  Brown  Puppy.  In  the  company 
of  the  yellow  dog  she  had  remained  in  the  morning  with 
the  mule  which  had  dislocated  its  leg,  and  I  had  seen 
nothing  of  her  since.  We  had  hoi)ed.  however,  that  she 
would  find  us  again,  as  she  had  so  often  done  before,  but 
now  we  were  convinced  that  she  had  lost  f)ur  trail,  and, 
desperate  and  crazy  with  ;iii\iety.  was  seeking  for  us  over 
hill  and  dale,  only  to  wan.ur  farther  and  farther  from  the 
right  direction.  It  was  u  ''less  to  send  men  after  her.  and 
it  was  not  advisable  to  ilivile  our  Muall  party  at  such  a 
critical  time.  The  dogs  had  remained  a  long  time  tearing 
at  the  mule's  neck,  and  when  at  last  they  were  satiated 
thev  had  started  to  follow  us  and  had  lo>t  our  track  in 
the  terrible  wind  and  sand  clouds.  If  they  once  crossed 
over  ice  they  would  never  I'md  our  track  .  gain.  Xow 
thoughts  of  my  old  tent  comi)anion  worried  me  more_  than 
anything  else.  Only  that  very  morning  she  had  lain  on 
her   felt   rug  in   the  usual   corner,   and    we   had    breakfasted 

t      ..     ,1.      _  \\'l-__-,       ,, U,.  J        ,i.K..t       Ti .U,.       <)..iiiir       nf        tl      -■ 

lo^Liiier.  \\  lieiC       V.J..T       Mlt   .  •.•.::.ll        •-■.-        -:;•-        -t ,,       ..  i        ,■        ■ 

moment?     Day    and    night    she    would    run    barking    and 
whining   over    desolate    Chang-tang    with    her   nose    to    the 


hA 


'I 


i\ 


298 


TR.\.\S-IIIM.\I,.\\A 


II 


:^l 


K'roiind,    si'ardiinL'    for    our    trirL-    till    1,  . 

an.l   painful      \Vl,,i   uo.  T    11        ■      '    ''■'"'    '"'''''    '""' 

with    t.    I    .  ulful  d.rL  ."  •'"   ^''""    "'^''"   '^""^-  ''"^v" 

11     un.Ki  ui  (l.irkiu'ss  and   its  nrou    rv  wolves^     \V..r . 

'''ff'r.;nt     paths,     having    lost    .a.  h    <  .  u'r  ^     S,r\;\  ?' 

night  thinking  of  her  misforturK     ITV    i    .     "     '''''^''    '^^ 
to   see   if   i)rr(lrmr<.  K    .       •  '"••''''''  '■'■^■'■y  niornin.' 

■I    shT    /k        a  /'"'fm-cJ   from   a  .klusion,   imaf,nninK  that 


s 


.  I!iLCi:Auu£^^ 


torn 
own 
Vvrv 

1>I'V 


or 


It 


IS        TlIK    Al  !!{■ 


\>     \    SHl-.I'llh  KIJ, 


-vaK/W 


^"5!>5 


»:.^^;^f^ 


^^m^ss^^^^zm^j^ 


LXll 


ADVENTURES   IN   NAGRONG 


i99 


our  tirrc 
l)rotl-      T 


were  not   spies; 
guests    was    the 
his,  who,   when   he   1 
sheep,   said   he   was  r 
with    him.    as    well    as 


had  not  yet  come.  One  of  thi' 
-law,  the  other  a  neighbtjur  of 
what  a  good  price  we  {)aid  for 
to  .sell  us  four  he  had  brought 
lively  goat.  Alxlul  Kerim  had 
received  a  general  order  t  )  buy  all  the  .sheej)  he  could  pro- 
cure, so  he  took  them.  The  goat  was,  is  has  been  .said,  a 
lively  beast,  and  he  ran  off  at  once  and  could  not  be  caught 
again. 

The  two  Tibetans  went  off  to  the  lama's  tent  to  drink 
tea,  but  the  critical  time  was  not  yet  over,  for  probably 
they  would  return  to  .see  us  start.  Therefore,  while  the 
tents  were  .still  standing,  I  set  out  with  Tubges,  Little 
Kunchuk,  and  "Snoring  Kunchuk,"  as  we  called  Sonam 
Kunchuk  on  account  of  his  terrible  timber-sawing  propen- 
.sities,  when  they  drove  our  thirty-one  sheep  down  the  valley. 
As  wc  went  off  the  Tibetans  came  out  and  watched  us, 
but  did  not  suspect  anything  wrong.  To  escape  detection 
I  had  hurriedly  turned  to  sheep-driving  (Illustration  318), 
but  I  soon  found  that  I  had  no  natural  aptitude  for  this 
occupation,  so  invigorating,  but  so  trying  to  the  patience. 
I  fancied  I  imitated  my  Ladakis  as  closely  as  pos.sible. 
whistled  and  shouted  in  the  same  way,  and  threw  out  my 
arms  when  a  sheep  left  the  crowd,  but  the  animals  showed 
me  not  the  least  obedience,  but  went  where  they  liked 
when  I  was  near.  After  an  hour's  walk  in  the  teeth  of  the 
wind  1  had  had  enough,  and  while  the  other  .shepherds  went 
on  with  the  sheep,  Kunchuk  and  I  stayed  in  a  cranny  out 
of  sight  of  the  lama's  tent,  while  I  could  look  over  all  the 
valley. 

At  length  the  other  men  came  with  Alxlul  Kerim 
riding  at  their  head.  Our  coats  and  turbans  were  of  the 
.same  colour,  so  that  any  Tibetans  who  happened  to  be 
watching  could  not  tell  if  it  were  Abdul  Kerim  or  I  that 
was  riding.  T  now  took  my  horse  and  went  on  in  front 
with  my  usual  companions.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  storm 
rose  to  a  furious  pitch  and  dashed  in  our  faces.  Driftsand 
swept  over  the  ground  in  dense  masses;  we  were  nearly 
sufTccated,  and  we  .seemed  to  stand  still  while  the  country 
moved  past  us  at  a  giddy  pace.     We  crossed  the  valley  in 


i 


i 


30O 


TRANS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


. 


onlrr  to  follow  its  vcstcrn  flank.  The  clouds  of  dust 
objured  tJK'  sun;  notliinj;  could  Ik-  sirn  beyond  a  distance 
of  20  vard>;  chaos  surrounded  us.  We  sto{){)ed  to  get 
our  i)reath,  and  le-t  we  should  miss  the  others,  but  ;'S  .soon 
as  they  a|t|)eared  like  phantoms  in  th<'  mi>t  we  .set  olT  aj^ain. 
1  have  e.\|)erience(l  many  .sand.^torms  in  Takla-makan  and 
'he  I<ob-nor  de.sert,  but  hardly  any  .so  bad  as  this  was.  In 
Turkestan  one  sim|)ly  eniani|)s  when  a  storm  comes  on, 
but  what  i^  the  use  of  encamping  to  await  the  end  of  a 
storm  which  la>ts  thirty  days?  We  strayed  among  small 
dunes,  and,  though  tlie  valKy  fell  in  the  direction  we  were 
travelling,  we  seemed  as  though  we  were  mounting  to  a 
lofty  ])ass  in  consetjuencc  of  the  pres.sure  of  the  storm. 
The  drift-and  rattled  against  my  dry  hard  coat,  which, 
from  the  constant  friction,  became  heavily  charged  with 
electricitv.  .\boul  every  other  minute  there  was  a  dis- 
charge, and  I  felt  uncomfortable  and  often  painful  prick- 
ings, especially  in  the  soles  of  the  feet,  the  hands,  and 
knees.  .\t  every  such  discharge  the  horse  also  pulled  uj) 
and  became  nervous.  .\t  la>t,  when  my  gri'y  Tik/.e  horse 
refused  to  go  farther,  and  we  had  (juite  lost  sight  of  the 
others,  and  could  not  .see  where  v. e  were  going,  we  came 
to  a  halt  and  huddled  together  with  our  backs  to  the  wind. 
The  electrical  discharges  continued  even  now,  but  were 
weaker.  If  I  ])laced  the  tij)  of  a  fmg -r  near  Gulam's  or 
Kutus'  hand  a  small  electric  spark  was  felt  and  .seen,  and 
both  of  us  felt  the  shock.  The  men  were  e.xceedingly 
astonishcMl.  and   hoped   it  was  not  witchcraft. 

We  sat  waiting  for  three  hours,  and  were  prepared  for 
an  uncomfortal)le  night.  Hut  Kutus  came  u|)on  the  other 
men  ju>t  when  they  were  giving  up  all  attempt  to  find  us 
before  night.  We  encam])ed  among  the  dunes,  and  before 
long  all  articles  which  were  set  out  in  my  tent  vanished 
under  a  thick  layer  of  sand. 

On  the  morning  of  the  iith  the  storm  had  somewhat 
abated;  and,  wearied  and  stiff  after  our  exjieriences  of  the 
previous  night,  we  continued  our  journey  .southwards  and 
encamped  at  a  deserted  slucpfold.  Hy  nine  o'clock  com- 
jiacl  sand>i»outs  twisted  slowly  over  the  plain  like  s])ectres, 
N)  the  storm  was  again  at  its  u.>ual  height.     We   had   tsaniba 


I.XIl 


ADVEXTIRKS   IX    XAGROXG 


301 


for  only  one  day,  but  it  (li<l  not  count  tor  nuu  h  as  long  as 
\vc  had  such  a  }^o(«l  supply  of  meat.  \Vc  were  f^Iad  to  f^et 
out  of  reach  of  tlie  Oertsi'  Pun;  in  this  drifting  sand  it  was 
inii)osvil)le  to  find  our  ti.iil  —  yes,  even  for  our  own  dogs. 
Little  Puppy  did  not  miss  his  UKjllitr,  liul  felt  very  im- 
portant at  being  sole  master  on  the  ground,  and  barked  at 
our  sober  sheep.  It  was,  however,  a  .serious  matter  for 
us  that  we  were  deprived  of  our  night  watch  in  distri  '  ; 
where  we  had  most  need  of  them.  We  must  try  t(j  prijcurc 
fresh  dogs  as  soon  as  possible. 

On  Marcii  the  i2lh  we  marched  the  usual  weary  6i 
miles  to  the  east-.south-east  through  a  tine  broad  longi- 
tudinal valley,  and  pitched  our  camp  in  a  hollow  full  of 
rubbish.  Our  three  tents  were  nov.'  always  placed  close 
together,  so  that,  if  any  stranger  came  une.\i)ecte(lly  to  my 
tent,  1  could  crawl  into  Alxlul  Kerim's  without  being  seen 
from  outside.  My  Ladak  cJuipkan  began  to  assume  a  more 
satisfactory  colour,  but  we  still  did  all  we  could  to  det'ile  it 
and  make  it  .sooty  and  greasy.  Little  Puppy  lent  me  his 
assistance  by  biting  and  tearing  the  .sleeves  so  that  they 
hung  in  rags.  It  would  not  be  long  before  1  had  the 
appearance  of  a  regular  rulTian. 

It  .snowed  heavily  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  the 
snow  lay  so  deep,  and  the  country  was  so  thickly  covered, 
that  we  tiiought  it  best  to  remain  stationary.  We  were 
still  further  removed  from  Brown  Pujipy,  and  it  was  vain 
for  her  to  seek  our  trail.  Perhajjs  it  was  providential  that 
both  she  and  the  white  horse  were  lost  before  they  could 
betray  us.  Tibetans  have  wonderfully  sharp  eyes  for 
animals,  and  recognize  them  again  wlien  they  have  .seen 
them  only  once.  Xow  the  danger  was  over,  for  all  the 
veterans  had  gone.  Perhaj>^  Puppy  siicritued  herself  that 
1  might  be  .successful  I  All  the  sami-,  T  seemed  to  see  her 
wanflering  disconsolate  and  distressed  about  the  desolate 
wastes  in  the  north. 


I'. 


It! 


ill 


CHAPTER   LXIII 


THROUGH   THF,   HIGHLANDS   OF   BON'GBA 


J' 


When  I  awake  to  another  day  of  uncertain  fortune  and 
adventures  life  seems  gloomy  and  solitary,  and  the  longer 
the  time  the  more  I  long  for  an  end  of  my  difTiculties. 
When  (lulam  awoke  me  on  the  14th.  he  complained  that 
Alxiul  Kerim  did  not  kiij)  the  watch  I  had  given  him  m 
order;  either  the  watch  or  the  caravan  leader  was  at 
fault,  !)Ut  he  believed  it  was  the  latter,  for  the  wa'ch  could 
not  he  hlamed  if  it  were  wound  up  only  every  other  day. 
(iulam  atVirmed  that  when  Alxlul  Kerim  was  asked  what 
o'clock  it  was,  he  always  answered  seven,  whatever  time 
it  might  be  in  the  twenty-four  hours. 

The  thermometer  fell  to  —11°  in  the  night,  but  the  day 
was  fine.  The  wind  blew  as  usual,  but  the  sun  came  out 
and  we  thought  of  spring  again.  Three  shej)herds  were 
taking  some  hundreds  of  sheep  to  the  west,  which  had  been 
driven  otT  from  their  pasturage  by  the  recent  snow  and 
were  looking  for  uncovered  land.  We  were  t)nly  a  day's 
journey  from  the  Tong-tso  (14,800  feet),  they  said,  and  the 
'i'ong  tso  was  the  j)oint  from  which  we  were  to  .start  .south- 
wards to  traverse  unknown  country.  If  I  succeeded  in  cross- 
ing it  only  l)y  a  single  route,  all  the  troubles  of  the  past 
winter  would  not  have  been  in  vain.  The  shepherds'  infor- 
mation was  correct,  for  the  ne.\t  day  we  bivouacked  on  the  west- 
ern shore  of  the  Tong-tso,  which  we  found  exactly  at  the 
place  where  the  immortal  pundit,  Xain  Sing,  inserted  it  on 
Ills  maj).  To  the  .south-ea.st  towered  the  huge  massive 
.Sha-kangsham,  along  the  northern  foot  of  which  I  had 
ridden  in  igoi. 

joa 


J 


CHAP. , Ml.      THE   HIGHLANDS   OF   BOXGBA 


303 


^  Now  \vc  had  to  find  a  convenient  pass  over  the  moun- 
tain which   barred  our  way  to  the  south.     A  f,'ap  was  .seen 
to    the    south-east,    and    we    directed    our    .steps    towards    it. 
On   our  right,   two   tents  sto(xl    at   the   foot   of  a   hill,   and 
AI^lul   Kerim   was  .sent   to   them   while   we  encam[)ed   in    a 
deep   narrow   ravine,   at   the   bottom   of   which   we   found   a 
large  (luantity  of  wind  .Iriven  kiang  dung  and  drv  tufts    of 
gra.ss.     On    his    return,    our    good    leader    reported    that    he 
was  rudely  reieived    h\-  two  men,  named   Xakchu   Tundup 
and  Xakchu  Hkinduj),  who  can-  fror     the  di.strict  Xakchu, 
three  days'  journey  distant  to  the  .south,  and  had  a  wife  in 
common.     Tiiey   first   a.-,ked   how   many   we   were  and    how 
many  guns   we   had.   ju.st    as   though    they   wished    to   know 
whether  they  and  their  neighlxjurs  might  venture  to  attack 
us.     They   then    said    liiat   they   had    seen   a    man   riding  at 
the   head   of    our   party,   while   all   the    rest,   Abdul    Kerim 
included,  went  <  n   foot,  and  that  it  was  not  hard  to  guess 
that    the    mounted    man    was    a    Eur<)[)ean.     When    Abdul 
Kerim  replied  that  no  Eurojjeans  travel  in  winter,  for  they 
are   too   much   afraid   of  the  cold,   and   that   we   were   only 
wool-buyers    from    Ladak,    the   Tibetans   shook    their   heads 
and  answered  that  they  had  never  heard  of  Ladakis  travel- 
ling   in    this   country    in    winter.     Hut,    nevertheless,    Alxlul 
succeeded    in    gaining    their   confidence,    an<l    when    he    had 
paid  double  the  market  price   for  two  yaks  and   si.x  sheep, 
the    Tibetans    forgot    their    su.spici()ns,    all    for    the    .siike   of 
filthy  lucre.     The  purchase  was  to  be  completed  the  follow- 
mg  morning.     Then  the  new  animals  were  fetched,  and  their 
carrying  jwwer  was  a   welcome   as.sistance   to  our  animals. 
Fortunately,  the  nomads  had  in  L,'eneral  the  greatest  respect 
for   our    tents.     It    was   important    for   us    to    make    liberal 
bargains  with  men  who  at  first  had  been  ho.stile  to  us.      On 
the   other   hand,    they   often    abstained    hum    betraying    us, 
even  if  they  had  suspicions,  for  if  it  were  known  that  they 
had  been  well  paid,  the  nearest  chief  would  confiscate  their 
receipts  and   woukl   al.so  punish   the   unfortunate   men   who 
had  dared  to  traffic  with  suspected  individuals. 

During  the  day's  march  I  rode  in  front  as  usual,  with 
my  two  com{)anions  on  foot.  A  tent  lay  concealed  behind 
a  chil.  and   we  did   not   notice  it   until   we  were  some  way 


rli 


'\i 


304 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


past  it.  and  tlun  it  was  too  latf  to  dismount.  Two  follows 
wtTc  outside  and  looked  after  us,  and  if  they  compared 
notes  with  tlieir  neiK'hl)nurs  tiiey  wouM  have  j^ckmI  cause 
for  su>i)iiion.  M  our  canij)  that  day  we  had  a  visit  from 
an  old  man  and  two  younj^  people,  who  had  their  tent  near 
,.11(1  tame  to  see  what  kind  of  men  we  were.  They  siiid 
that  thev  were  very  i)oor,  and  l>ej,'^'ed  for  some  coppers. 
We  were  on  the  I'^jnier  of  the  district  Honj^ba chanf^ma, 
which  contains  ,^oo  tents,  and,  like  the  whole  province  of 
Hon^lw,  is  subject  to  the  -governor  Karma  I'untso,  whose 
tent  stoo<l  at  a  distance  of  six  day.s'  journey  to  the  sc^uth. 
He  was  a  man  of  twenty-five  years  of  a^c,  lived  in  a 
lar^e  tent,  and  had  ken  in  ofi'icc  only  a  year,  since  his 
father  died.  It  was  assuring  to  know  that  he  could 
have  no  e.\i)erience  of  F.uropeans  and  their  crafty  ways. 
After  the  strangers  had  received  a  coui)le  of  lennas 
from  Alxlul  Kerim,  they  went  home  again  in  the  rays 
of  the  evening  sun,  delighted  to  find  that  ve  were  not 
robbers. 

Then  the  temperature  fell  to  -i6°;  the  winter  was 
remarkably  trying,  but  the  day,  March  18,  was  still  fine, 
and  I  travelled  all  the  way  on  foot,  driving  the  sheej)  while 
we  were  i)assing  several  tents.  Among  them  was  that  of 
our  old  man  of  the  day  before,  and  he  provetl  to  be  a  man 
of  property,  who  sold  us  various  much-needed  articles  of 
food.  On'  the  way  'lubges  shot  seven  partridges,  where- 
upon two  Til)etans  came  forward  and  protested,  s;iying  that 
only  Europeans  shot  partridges.  Alxlul  Kerim  assured 
them  that  he  preferretl  partridges  to  mutton.  Again  there 
was  talk  of  Karma  Puntso.  Perhajjs  it  would  be  l)etter  to 
choo.se  another  way.  No;  then  the  governor  would  be  .still 
more  suspicious.  We  encamped  on  the  northern  side  of  a 
small  pass,  where  we  had  no  troublesome  neighk)urs. 

March  'q.  Breakfast,  a  delicate  partridge  and  a  cup 
of  tea,  was  just  over  wlun  it  was  announced  that  three 
Tibetans  were  coming  up  to  our  tents.  But  they  stopped 
at  a  respectful  distance,  and  .Abdul  Kerim  went  up  to 
them.  My  tent  was  opened  in  this  direction,  but  was 
closed  again  just  in  time,  'ilie  'f'ii)etans'  errand  was  to 
a.sk  if  we  had  any  medicine  suit;ilile  for  a  man  who  had  a  pain 


THE    HIGHLANDS   OF   BONGBA 


30s 


in  the  foot.  In  reality,  their  object  was  to  spy  up(jn  us 
when  we  set  out,  for  they  stayed  all  the  time  and  looked 
alM)Ut.     After  my  hands  and  face  had  been  coloured  Ijlack, 

1  stole  by  the  secret  pass;ige  into  AUlul  Kerim's  tent, 
while  Kutus  and  Gulam  crawled  by  the  same  way  into 
mine  to  pack  u[).  Then  I  went  with  Lobsan^  and  Kutus,  and 
drove  the  sheep  up  the  track  leading  to  the  pass  (16,135  fi-'t-'t). 
We  had  not  gone  far  wlien  Ablul  Kcrini  came  riding  on 
my  hor>e  and  made  frantic  gestures  to  us  to  stop.  A  Tibetan 
horseman,  followed  \)y  a  big  dog,  would  meet  us  in  a  few 
moments  on  the  path.  \Ve  therefore  took  a  roundabout 
way  among  hillocks,  while  the  caravan  encountered  the 
Tibetan.  In  this  way  we  escaped  the  danger.  Soon  came 
Kunchuk  and  Sedik,  leading  the  dog  with  a  rope  on  either 
side  —  a  savage  brute,  which  barked  till  he  foamed  at  the 
mouth,  and  tried  to  bite  those  who  were  taking  him  away 
from  his  ma.ster.  He  was  of  the  species  called  takkar,  and 
Takkar  was  liis  name.  He  reminded  me  of  a  St.  Bernard; 
he  was  coal  black,  with  a  white  patch  on  the  chest  and  neck, 
and   was  as  savage  as  a  wolf.     They  had   bought  him   for 

2  rujjees. 

Moreover.  Alxlul  Kerim  had  also  Ijought  the  rider's 
horse  for  86  rui)ees,  and  he  came  jogging  cheerfully  after 
us  as  we  rode  down  from  the  summit  of  the  pass  to  a 
Icjngitudinal  valley  abounding  in  tents  and  herds  of  .sheep 
and  yaks,  and  at  two  spots  were  seen  mounted  men,  who 
looked  unc(jmfortably  like  a  levy.  The  new  horse  was 
eleven  years  old,  the  owner  .said,  and  if  he  passed  well 
over  his  fifteenth  year,  he  would  live  to  thirty  —  but  we 
did  not  want  him  .so  long.  He  was  a  new  member  of 
our  troop  and  excited  general  interest,  and  Takkar  lx>- 
came  cjuietcr  when  he  saw  an  old  friend  and  comrade  in 
misfortune. 

At  the  camp  we  had  to  be  careful,  for  nomads  dwelt 
near  and  shepherds  wandered  with  their  flocks  on  the 
slo|)es  around.  To  [)revent  Takkar  from  running  away  he 
was  tied  l)y  the  neck  to  a  tent  pole,  an  operation  by  no 
means  ea^y.  He  was  tied  fast  with  ropes,  his  legs  were 
fettered,  and  a  felt  mat  was  thrown  over  him,  on  which 
four  men    sat  while   the  others  made  him   fast  U)  the  ixjle. 

vuL.   11  X 


,   (i 


I. 
♦  "■( 


I 


I 


3o6 


fKAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


(• 


Immediately  he  was  let  loose  he  rushed  at  those  nearest 
him.  hut  \va>  helil  i)a(  k  by  the  |)ole.  It  was  a  sin  to  ilraK 
him  from  home  a^ain^t  his  will;  he  was  another  Uncle 
Tom  who  sulTiTi'd  f(»r  our  sake,  l)Ut  I  hopi-d  that  we  should 
soon  understand  each  other.  To  console  him  in  his 
captivity  he  was  j,'iven  the  hloocl  and  entrails  of  the 
slauf^htered    sheep. 

We  crossed  another  small  pass  (rg. 5,^7  feet)  on  the  20th, 
and  the  insi<^nific  ant  lake  .Shar  tso,  where  a  tine  sj)rin<^  hubbies 
up  out  of  the  ground  by  the  shore.  From  a  couple  of  tents 
to  the  west  we  bou;;ht  tea,  butter,  and  tsamba  sulTicient 
for  several  days,  and  heanl  a,ti;ain  about  Karma  Puntso. 
This  time  it  was  said  that  he  lived  three  days  to  the  west, 
and  we  hoped  to  sli|)  i)ast  without  any  disturbance.  The 
country  about  camj)  ^51)  is  called  Luma-shar,  and  we 
stayed  on  the  northern  bank  of  tiie  lar^e  river  Kangsham- 
tsanf^po,  which  comes  from  the  northern  llank  of  Sha-kang- 
sham,  the  inline  massive  wliic  h  I  left  to  the  south  of  my 
route  in  1901,  and  which  showed  us  a  magnificent  view  of 
its  western  side.  The  mountain  lay  about  a  couple  of  day.s' 
journey  to  the  south-east. 

The  next  day  we  were  to  cross  the  river,  an  exceedingly 
unjjleasant  business;  for  though  there  had  been  32  degrees 
of  frost  in  the  night  the  ice.  except  close  to  the  bank, 
would  not  bear.  Alidul  made  an  attempt  witli  his  horse, 
but  the  animal  came  down  on  his  nose  in  the  middle  of 
the  river.  Then  Lobsang  took  olT  his  Ixxjts  and  went 
across  the  river  barefooted,  and  came  back  again  to  help 
in  conducting  our  pack  animals  gently  and  firmly  across. 
To  get  the  sheep  over  was  the  worst  ditTiculty;  they 
hacl  to  be  pushed  and  pulled  by  the  horns,  one  at  a  time. 
.Mmost  all  the  men  of  the  caravan  got  a  refreshing  bath 
in   the  .stream  (Illustration   36,^). 

On  the  other  side  we  ascended  h,  a  .small  pass  where 
there  was  a  splendid  view  over  the  ridge,  which  seemed  to 
run  west-south-west  from  Sha-kangsham  and  which  barred 
our  wav  to  the  south.  AIkIuI  Kerim,  Kunchuk.  and  Sedik 
went  with  an  exhausted  mule  to  a  few  tents  standing  to 
the  right  of  our  route,  with  the  object  of  l)artering  the 
Worn-out  beast  for  a  couple  of  sheej),  but  the  nomads  said 


LI  » 


LXIII 


THE   HIGHLANDS   OF    BONGBA 


.507 


they  would  not  take  it  as  a  '^'ift.  Instead,  our  min  l)<)U^Iit 
rice,  sour  milk,  Ijutter,  salt,  and  a  slieej),  so  that  wt'  wire 
provided  for  some  days.  From  tlie  (amp  also  AUlul 
Kerim  took  a  lonj,'  walk  to  some  tetit^  in  the  neij.,'lil«)ur- 
liood.  Xow  poor  AlxUil  Kerim  had  to  do  peiianie  for  his 
sins,  and  if  he  had  erred  in  takini,'  too  little  harley  from 
l^adak,  he  made  up  for  it  Ijy  his  conduct  on  this  adventurous 
journey. 

From    camp    jto    the    hij^'hest    peak    of    Sha-kan^'sham 
lay  south,  7,^°  K.  (Illustrations   516,  ^517). 

'I'akkar  is  still  irreconcilable,  and  iieartilv  detests  Kun- 
chuk,  who  lxjuj.;ht  him.  Hut  he  also  harks  at  us  as  soon  as 
we  show  ourselves  outside  the  tents.  On  the  march  he  is 
resif^ned  as  long  as  he  is  near  our  new  horse,  but  at  other 
times  he  is  savage.  The  only  (jne  that  dares  go  near  him 
i><  Little  Pujjpy,  who  teases  and  sports  with  him  and  bites 
his  ears.  Takkar  treats  Little  Puppy  with  supreme  con- 
tempt, and  only  when  the  young  one  presumes  to  snatch  his 
new  uncle's  food  he  growls  angrily,  but  then  Little  Puppy 
pricks  up  his  ears,  puts  his  head  on  one  side,  and  looks 
at  him.  He  little  thought  that  the  new  dog  could  have 
bitten  otT  his  head  like  a  chicken's  if  he  had  wished.  In 
reality,  Takkar  was  glad  to  have  a  playfellow  in  his  cap- 
tivity, though  at  first  he  held  himself  aloof  to  maintain  his 
dignity. 

The  ne.xt  morning  Lob.sang  and  Tubges  went  back  to 
the  nomads'  tent  and  relumed  with  three  more  sheep,  a 
lump  of  butter,  and  a  bag  of  tobacco.  Their  appetites 
were  wonderful  to  behold.  The  others  had  left  for  them 
half  a  pot  of  tea  mi.xed  with  butter,  tliick  and  red.  One 
cuj)  disappeared  after  another,  and  they  cinptied  the  pot  to 
the  last  drop.  Then  they  took  .some  meat  out.  which  they 
ate  up  like  wild  beasts.  What  was  left  they  stuffed  into 
tluir  waistbelts,  to  have  it  handy  in  case  they  were  hungry 
before  we  reached  the  next  camp. 

We  continued  on  our  way  to  the  south,  passing  on  our 
left  hand  an  open  plain  which  extended  up  t(}  the  foot  of 
the  skirts  of  Sha-kangsham.  We  i)as.sed  tents  and  tlocks 
at  one  or  two  places,  and  encamj)ed  on  a  hill  of  loost- 
material  beside  a  spring.     The  nomads  around  had  nothing 


n 


at 

'■'( 

'  ;  i 


3o8 


'IKANS-IIIMALAVA 


CHAf. 


t 

h 


to  sell.  l)Ut  K^ivc  Alxlul  Kcrim  miuh  viilii.iMc  inform.ition. 
On  >ii(  h  ()((,ixi()ns  Kunrluik  UM'd  to  >it  and  ■<■(  rrllv  note 
down  :dl  the  ^coL^niihu  al  iiamts.  Ainon^  otluT  details  uc 
now  licard  that  if  we  luld  on  our  journry  to  tlir  south  fur 
si'Vfn  days  we  should  fall  in  with  a  rii  h  nicnhant  from 
Lhasa,  nanicil  Tson^pun  Tasl-.i,  who  was  wont  to  taki'  u|i 
his  (juartcrs  in  wintir  in  the  heart  of  the  Hon>,'l)a  provitui- 
to  si'll  tea  to  the  riuniads.  We  nii^ht  lie  certain  that  if  we 
came  into  the  nei}^hljourh(Mxl  of  his  camp  we  should  aj^ain 
be  in  a  eritical   situation. 

N'ow  Lohsmg  and  two  weather  beaten  Ladakis  com- 
plained that  they  sle|)t  l)a(lly,  iKcause  it  was  too  warm  in 
the  tent.  The  former  worc'  a  .set  of  underclothes,  and 
al)ove  only  a  parment  of  thin  W(K)llen  material.  In  this 
costume  he  nad  travelled  all  the  way  from  Dru.i,'utj,  and 
slept  in  72  decrees  of  frost  with  only  a  couple  of  s;icks 
over  him,  for  he  had  sold  his  skin  coat  to  one  of  hi.s 
comrades  ai  the  commencement  of  the  journev.  Only  a 
Tibetan    car    survive    such    an    experience. 

On  Ma  ch  2t,  we  .struggled  up  to  tlie  Chaklam  la,  which 
we  al.so  heard  called  Amchen  la.  The  path  u|)  to  it  is 
steep,  and  we  moved  exceedingly  .slowly  up  the  ascent. 
The  sheep  and  the  two  yaks  beat  us  hollow.  From  the 
la.st  tent  the  i)ath  was  visible  all  the  way  up  to  the  ])ass,  so 
I  was  obliged  to  travel  on  foot,  and  I  might  have  collap.sed 
from  palpitation  of  the  heart  and  loss  of  breath  if  I^)bsang 
had  not  gone  Inhinrl  and  pushed  me.  The  lives  of  two 
mules  had  been  eblnng  away  during  tlie  previous  days,  so 
the  animals  were  left  where  nomacls  -ould  take  po.sses.sion 
of  them.  A  black  horse  was  .dso  gi'ing  in,  and  the  newly 
Ijcnight  one  I  id  to  take  over  his  load.  My  grey  horse  was 
no  longer  worth  much.  Chaklam  la,  with  its  17,3,^9  feet, 
was  a  heavy  trial  to  us,  and  I  was  not  delighted  with  the 
view  which  unrolled  itself  to  the  south  —  a  labyrinth  of 
mountains,  where  it  was  plain  to  see  that  the  ranges  all 
stretched  from  ea.st  to  west.  From  the  pass  there  is  a 
steep  descent  to  the  river  Sangchen-chu,  which  (lows  west- 
wards. We  encamped  on  it-  bank.  \ow  Takkar  was 
becoming  resigned  to  his  fate.  He  was  certainly  annoyed 
at    being   tied    to   the   pole,  but  he  found    that   he  got  good 


J 


Lxni 


THK   HIGHLANDS   OF   lioNGBA 


He 


and    plentiful    focKi    anfl    that    \vp    wen*    kind    to    him. 
harknl  only  at  Kunc  huk.  whom  he  could  never  for^'ivo 

When  wc  broke  up  our  ramp  on  March  24.  we  hesitated 
whether  we  should  make  for  the  south-west  or  south-east, 
for  hi^^h  mountains  ro^e  to  the  south.  If  we  went  south- 
westwards  wc  should  come  too  near  to  Karma  I'untso,  anri 
so  we  those  the  southeasterly  route.  We  had  lirst  to 
cross  the  i(e  of  the  river,  1^0  yards  broad,  where  a  path 
was  sanded.  The  sheep  had  to  U-  dra^K*"*!  over  one  by 
one  by  the  horns,  and  the  yaks  would  not  venture  on  the 
iie  till  they  siiw  that  it  bore  the  horses  and  mules,  (iulam 
went  first  on  foot,  and  had  the  usual  order  to  ^ive  a  sij,'n 
if  he  .siiw  a  tent  or  shepherds.  We  had  not  «one  far  when 
he  stretched  out  his  left  hand,  which  meant  that  I  must 
dismount  and  ^'o  on  foot  while  Alniiil  Kerim  nnle  my 
horse.  It  was  only  a  shepherd  with  his  tlcKk.  As  soon  as 
the  (laii},'er  was  past  I  e.xchanRed  places  with  the  caravan 
leailer. 

.\  little  farther  on  I  found  that  I  had  lost  my  ciRarettc 
casi'.  which  also  contained  some  unmounted  family  portraits 
and  one  or  two  pieces  of  .sticking  plaster.  It  "would  be 
terrible  if  a  Tibetan  found  it.  Only  a  Kuropean  could 
own  such  a  thin.t,'.  Lobsant,'  and  Kutus  went  back  and 
searched  alonj.'  the  track  while  I  lay  and  waited  on  a  bank. 
They  found  the  case,  and  each  received  a  ci^^arette  as  a 
reward,  and  we  sat  and  smoked  while  Alxlul  Kerim  with 
Kunchuk  and  Tub^^es  went  down  to  a  tent,  where  there 
were  only  women,  and  b)ut,'ht  some  i)rovisions.  At  the 
camp  in  the  evenin-,'  snow  fell,  and  at  nij,dit  the  thermometer 
sank  to  zero.  Xow  we  had  only  21  sheep  left,  and  we  must 
try  to  intrea.se  our  flock,  or.  .still  better,  buy  a  dozen 
horses.  In  this  resion.  and  in  Bonj^'ba  j,'cnerallv,  it  was 
dillicult  to  buy  shee[).  Everywhere  the  noma'ds  com- 
|)lained  that  their  flocks  had  been  decimated  by  the  cold, 
wind,  and  snow,  and  the  [jastura^e  was  unusually  pf)ori 
because  (he  rains  had  failed  at  the  end  of  the  prcctfling 
summer.  .Sheep  breed  in, «,'  is  their  means  of  subsistence, 
and  if  they  lose  their  flocks  they  are  imixjverishcd  and 
can  (]o  nothing  but  wander  al^out  begging  from  more  fortu- 
nate  pcoi)le.     They    h.ivc  therefore   a  decided   objection    to 


ii\ 


I 


I 


i 


4^fei"i 


MICROCOPY    RESOIUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TF5T  CHART  m^    2 


1.0 


1.25 


3f> 


l|||[  2.5 
IPI|  2.2 
I  2.0 

1.8 


1.4 


^     APPLIED   IM.^IGE     inc 


iliililiBiiWil'! 


<f*-  ;r-^ 


310 


rRAXS-HIMALAYA 


V 


i^ 


diminish  thtir  flocks  by  artificial  means,  as  we  may  say; 
the  Hocks  must  fluctuate,  increasing  in  good  times  and 
fliminishing  in  had,  hut  they  must  not  Ix;  reduced  l;y  sale. 
Therefore  they  often  refuse  to  sell  even  at  douhle  the 
proper  price.  Still  harder  was  it  to  buy  horses  in  Bongba. 
In  the  ni;,'ht  our  animals  wandered  back  to  the  former 
camp.  While  Lobsang  and  Kutus  went  after  them  most 
of  the  clay  slipped  by,  and  therefore  we  remained  at 
camp  363.  Kunchuk  and  Tubges  s[)ie(l  a  tent  in  a  valley 
to  the  south,  where  they  Ijought  rice,  barley,  tsaniba,  milk, 
and  churn,  a  kind  of  cheese,  so  that  we  had  food  for 
several  days.  Thus  we  got  our  livelihood  in  small 
portions,  bit  by  bit  anfl  from  tent  to  tent.  Our  own  flock 
had  now  shrunk  to  21   head,  all  carrying  burdens. 

A  solitary  wild-goose  flew  screaming  over  our  camp. 
Had  he  got  Itjst,  or  he  was  a  scout  sent  out  to  see  if  the 
ice  were  broken  up  on  the  lakes  to  the  north?  Doubtless 
he  would  soon  return  to  his  trilx'  and  make  his  report.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  he  had  Ix-cn  despatched  too  soon. 

From  February  24  to  March  24  we  had  traversed  only 
TQO  miles,  owing  to  the  cutting  storm,  loss  of  animals,  and 
now  at  length  the  diflkult  country.  We  now  seldom  made 
a  day's  march  of  as  much  as  7  miles. 

It  is  most  irritating  that  a  tent,  Ukc  a  sentinel-box  or 
a  spj-ing  eye,  always  stands  at  the  northern  foot  of  a 
pass,  so  that  I  have  to  walk  all  the  way.  This  day  also, 
when  we  crept  up  to  the  -Sanchen-la,  a  small  shelter  stood 
on  the  saddle,  17,572  feet  high.  Southwards  there  were  still 
more  mountains.  At  a  distance  of  20  to  25  miles  north, 
60°  E.,  rose  the  highest  peak  of  Sha-kangsham,  a  fine 
sight  in  the  iK-autiful  weather,  when  not  a  cloud  obstructed 
the  view.  Five  Ovis  .Xmmons  careered  in  nimble  and 
elastic  springs  over  the  heights,  and  small  agile  Goa 
antelopes  leaped  along  the  southern  slope,  where  we 
scrambled  down  among  detritus.  The  Pantholops  antelope 
is  not  seen  in  this  region. 

Close  to  where  we  encamped  at  Xema-tok  was  a  tent, 
and  the  inmates  sold  us  a  sheep's  load  of  rice.  An  old 
man,  whom  my  fellows  called  familiarly  nva  or  father,  came 
to  look  at  our  black  horse,  which  we  wished  to  sell,  as   it 


LXIII 


THE   HIGHLANDS   OF   BOXGBA 


311 


could  ev-idcntly  not  travel  much  farther.     But  the  old  man 
said  he  would    lot  give  a  raj)  for  the  horse.     He  informed 
us  that  in  ni       days  nomads  from  all  (juarters  would  repair 
to  the  place  where   Karma   Puntso  dwelt,  to   buy  tea    and 
pay  their  taxes  to  the   Government.     Tson^pun  Tashi  was 
a   powerful   and   inlluential   man,   he   said.      We   drew   near 
to  this  potentate  with  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  and  growin;: 
respect.     He    enjoys    peculiar    privileges    from    the     Deva 
shung.     He    sells  'tea    to    the    nomads    on    credit.     When 
they  sell  their  sheep's  wool  in  summer  at    the    tasam    they 
pay  their  debts  to  him   in  Iciii^as  or   in  goods.     Tsongpun 
Tashi     makes    a    good    profit    on    these    transactions,   and 
therefore    it    is    to    his    interest     to    stand    well    with    the 
Devashung.     If  he,  who   must    have   the  reputation  of  Ix.-- 
ing  more   intelligent  and  sensible  than   the  simple  nomads, 
were  to   let  us  pass  by  with   impunity,   he   would  have    to 
answer  for  it  to  the   Devashung  and  would   lose  his  privi- 
leges.    We    were    therefore    evidently    coming    to    a    most 
critical  moment. 

Nothing    venture,    nothing    have!      If    I    would    explore 
the  blank  space  in  the  heart  of  which  I  now  found  myself, 
I  must  expose  myself  to  various   annoyances   and  run   great 
risks.     For   a    moderately    intelligent    man    it    could    be    no 
particular  pleasure  to   go  on   foot   through   desolate   wastes 
like  a  vagak:)nd,  and  drive  a   tlock  of  refractory  sheep.     I 
was  already  thoroughly  weary  of   this  work,   for  I  had  no 
talent  or  training  to  perform   it   properly.     I   had  to   paint 
myself  black  every  morning  like  a  negro,  and    I  sat  with  a 
brush    before    the    looking-glass,    smearing    my    face    three 
times    over    to    produce    an    evenly    dark    complexion.     My 
eyes   were   concealed   with   a   pair   of   large   round   Tik'tan 
spectacles    with    my    own     ywlished    glasses     fixed     inside. 
This   time   I   was   much    more   carefully   disguised   than    in 
1901,  when    I  tried  U)  get  through  to   Lhasa  as  a  Mongol, 
but  was  held   fast  in  the  strong  claws  of   Kamba   Bomlx^. 
My  tuiban  was  too  white,  so  it   was    dipi)ed   in  a  dye  of 
boUed  butter  and  ashes,  and  kcame  at  once  quite  shabby. 
Mv  soft  leather  toots  were  in  holes,  so  that  the  toes  came 
out.     It  was  well  that  I  ran   no  risk  of    meeting   acquaint- 
ances from  Stockholm  or  Luriilwn. 


Ill 


>J 


i 


R" 


»      r    T*  r    -    •  ' 

mm 


u  r 

1  i 


'-^r 


^l3 


312 


TRANS-HLMALAYA 


(HAP.    I-XIII 


This  journey  was  painful  and  trying  to  the  nerves. 
Day  and  night  I  lived  in  the  greatest  anxiety  lest  I  should 
Ixi  '  discovered  and  ignominiously  unmasked.  The  farther 
\vc  advanced  southwards  the  more  I  was  troubled  by  this 
apprehension.  Should  we  succeed,  or  should  we  be  forced 
back  when  we  had  traversed  only  half  the  distance  across  the 
blank  space?  Should  I  never  cross  the  Trans-Himalaya 
again?  At  every  stage  our  watchfulness  and  cautiousness 
increased,  and  also  the  tension  of  our  nerves.  I  must 
always  be  on  my  guard  and  never  hold  a  cigarette  in  my 
hand  when  we  were  on  the  march.  My  map  sheets  and 
compass  I  thrust  into  my  bosom  to  l)e  near  at  hand. 
When  I  collected  a  rock  specimen,  took  a  Ix-aring  with 
the  compass,  or  made  a  drawing  near  a  tent,  I.obsiing  had 
to  screen  me,  and  he  became  astonishingly  adept  at  this 
game.  The  sun  1  could  observe  only  when  we  were  quite 
sure  that  no  Tilx'tan  could  see  the  instrument.  Some- 
times I  sat  and  drew  a  panorama  through  a  peephole  in 
the  tent  cloth.  The  sheep  were  my  refuge,  and  with 
them  I  set  out  first,  and  had  not  to  take  part  in  the 
packing  and  loading,  and  I  was  spared  from  watching 
the  animals  at  night,  as  in  1901.  In  Vx)th  cases  I  was 
practically  a  prisoner  in  my  tent,  where  the  evening  hours 
seemed  very  long.  Nothing  is  so  trying  and  irritating  to 
the  mind  as  this  anxiety  in  which  I  lived,  travelling  in 
disguise,  and  expecting  any  moment  to  come  to  a  crisis  in 
my  fate. 


I 


CHAPTER  LXIV 


\< 


TSONGPUN   TASHI 

M  RCH  27.    Nearly  -  4°  in  the  night  -  still  winter.     Bu* 
at  one  o'clock  the  temperature  rose  to  46i°-spnng  was 

''In^'old  mon  sold  us  four  sheep  '" /^e  morning  and 
then  prowled  about  our  tents.  He  cou  d  not  at  all  under- 
stand why  we  had  come  hither,  especially  at  this  season, 
but  AMul  Kerim  told  him  that  when  we  left  Tok-jalung 
the  most  severe  cold  was  over.  This  was  a  new  story 
we  had  invented,  bc-cause  it  was  more  Fobable  than  the 
former,  and  would  pass  better  in  the  southern  parts  of  the 

''''''llere,  also,  stood  the  usual  tent  with  a  view  up  to  the 
pass,  and  I  was  obliged  to  go  on  foot  up  to  the  summit  of 
The  Ladung-la  with  its  17.395  f-t.     But  here  the  ^^'^'^"^ 
encouraging;  we  had  level  or  declining  ground  before  us  for 
our  days.     The   descent   from  the   pass  to  the   south    was 
precipitous,  and  we  stumbled  and  slidcd  through  the  rubbish 
i^^hich  rattled  down  khind  us,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
ruining  my  boots  and  clothes  more  than  ever.    The  valley 
m  ned^  of!   to   the   right,  south-west,   and    in    the  Janglung 
chstrict,  where  we  encamped,  a  young  shepherd  informed  us 
that  we  should  come  to  Tson.gpun  Tashi  s  tent  "^'^^  fay. 

Numerous  spri.,,.s  bubbled  ^P J'^^  ']^\''f\^lZ 
and  formed  a  little  clear  brook  full  o  f\sh  between  grassy 
swards  Here  some  of  us  halted  and  used  Kutus  prdle 
as  a  net.     At  the  first  haul  we  caught  18  fish,  and  we  did  no 

ds  a  iiLi.     ^"^  _  ^  , ^     ^,.^    >^„t  ^„„t,.  sufficient 

cease  liii   we  nad   ibo  —  r.^--  ^^--n-  "•••  ->    -7-  --"-         ,.    , 
to   feed  all  thirteen  of  us.    It  was  amusing  to  see  Little 

3ii 


I 


hi 

I 


Li-iiVij^iri.^ 


:->firi'=Vt^- 


■A    '      ^  - 


-St-'; 


f 


314 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


,  I 


til 
it 


Puppy  a^  he  stood  watrhinj^  attentively  and  rcf^ardinj^  the 
s|)ra\vliiii;  ri>hes,  barkini^  and  stiahini,'  his  head.  He  had 
never  in  his  litV  seen  running  water  before,  and  must 
have  supposed  that  he  could  walk  upon  it  a>  safely  as  on 
clear  ice.  Quite  unsuspiciously  he  jumped  down  from  the 
^rass,  where  the  brook  was  2  feet  deep,  and  entirely  dis- 
appeared under  the  wati  r.  When  he  hail,  with  much 
•  lilViculty,  struggled  u])  a^ain,  he  was  much  amazed  and 
disconcerted,  and  prowled  alx)Ut  t^rowlini;  with  displeasure 
at  the  cold  bath.  After  that  he  kejjt  far  away  from  the 
deceitful  brook. 

March  28.  Xow  we  saw  that  we  could  trust  Takkar, 
so  we  let  him  loose.  He  did  not  run  away,  but  was  in  the 
Ix^st  of  tempers,  and  Hew  like  an  arrow  over  the  slopes, 
enjoyinj^  his  freedom,  and  played  with  Little  Puppy,  who 
U'came  furious  when  the  hu<^e  brute  came  racin<;  down  on 
him  with  playful  leaps,  so  that  he  rolled  over  and  over 
on   the   ground. 

Abdul  Kerim  was  to  <i;o  on  the  new  horse  with  the 
Ladaki  saddle,  accompanied  by  two  men,  to  look  out  for 
Tsongpun  Tashi.  He  had  plenty  of  money  to  buy  any- 
thing he  might  fmd,  and  in  reply  to  searching  (|uestions  he 
was  to  say  that  we  had  orders  from  (julam  Razul  to  meet 
one  of  his  caravans  in  Raga-tasam,  which  in  about  ten 
days  was  to  leave  Lhasa,  and  then  accompany  it  to 
Ladak. 

I  had  to  ride  my  grey  horse  barebacked,  but  I  had  not 
got  far  before  we  passed  two  tents,  where  four  Tilx'tans 
came  out  to  look  at  us.  Two  of  our  men  went  and  talked 
to  them  while  the  rest  of  us  followed  the  brook  through  the 
valley.  A  little  further  and  we  had  to  Ix'  careful  again,  for 
there  wi-re  three  more  tents  and  two  large  flocks,  the 
owner  of  which  possessed  3000  sheep.  Sheepfolds,  old 
camping-places,  and  nuiuis  were  all  around,  for  we  were  on 
a  great  highway,  and  therefore  I  kept  close  to  the  sheep, 
and  whistled  and  shouted  at  them.  At  the  mouth  of  a  side 
valley,  on  the  left,  stood  a  large  white  tent  with  blue 
l)orders,  which  was  said  to  belong  to  the  chief  of  the 
district,  the  Gova  Chykying.  A  man  came  out  of  the  tent, 
hurried  after  us,  and  asked  whence  we  came  and  whither 


IX IV 


TSONGPUX   TASHI 


315 


we  were  Roing.     Two  women  came  out  of  a  tent  inhabited 
by    beggars,    and    put    the    same   ([uestions.     A    mile   or   so 
farther  we  were  out  of  sight  of  tents,  and  I  jumi)e(l  on  my 
grey  horse,  but  I  could  not  ride  far,  for  more  tents  appeared 
farther  down  the  valley.     We  encamped  l)y  the  side  ()f  the 
brook  in  the  Rung  sherya  country,  where  the  valley  is  very 
broad   and   open,   and   tents   are   seen    in    many   directions. 
From  one  of  these,    which  stood   Ixlow  ours,  a  man  came 
and  made  incjuiries.     lie  said  that  one  of  the  tents,  which 
looked   large   and   important.   Ix'longed   to   Takyung    Lama. 
ablx)t  of  Mendonggompa,  a  monastery  three  (lays'  journey 
to  the   south-east.     Xow  we  were   in  a  warm  corner,  with 
the   district    chief,   a    high    lama,    and    Tsongpun   Tashi    as 
near  neigh lx)urs,  and  the  (Governor  of  the  great  province  of 
Bongba  nf)t  far  off.     It  would  \k-  a  marvel  if  we  succeeded 
in   making   our   way   out   of   this   wasp's   nest.     One   thing 
was  certain,  that   we   must  make   olT   ne.xt   morning,  before 
news  of  our  arrival  had  spread  alx)Ut. 

After  we  had  waited  several  hours  Abdul  Kcrim  came. 
We  could  see  at  a  long  distance  that  he  had  bought  a  horse, 
which  was  laden  with  sacks  and  bags  containing  rice,  barley, 
butter,  and  tsamba.     Tsongi)un  Tashi  proved  to  be  an  old 
man   of   a   poverty-stricken   and    mean   appearance,   but   his 
large  tent  was  full  of  gocxls,  sacks,  and  packets  of  tea,  and 
his   movable   shop   was    very    well    stocked.      Naturally    he 
was  much  surprised  at  the  visit,  but   he  swallowed   the  story 
that  Abdul  Kcrim  dished  up  for  him.     He  had  even  given 
him  the  names  of  all  the  [)laces  where  we  ought  to  camp 
on  the  way  to  Saka-dzong  and  Raga-tasam,  and  advised  us 
to  be  well  'on  our  guard  in  a  district  he  called  Bupgo-lathit, 
where  there  were  always  robbers.     He  related  that  a  band 
of  robbers  had,  a  few  weeks  before,  attacked  and  plundered 
Targyaling-gompa,   the  monastery   where   we   had   met  with 
such '  a    hostile    reception   in    June    of    the    [)receding   year. 
Forty  men  with  horses  and   guns  had  been   levied  to  chase 
the  band,   but   Tsongpun   Tashi   said   that   these   forty  men 
were    little    better    than    robbers    tliemselves,    and    that    we 
ought  to  in(iuire  about  them,  so  as  to  avoid   them  as  they 


v,.f.-..=-.-,,..l  \'.,'m1         Ft-'"'"1        :-.r.-.rp.i-<'('. 


1^.-/  ,r»rTT^i  in 
-•"or 


T.'ishi    to 


I' 


\i- 


I)! 


% 


barter  our  sick  black  horse  for  some  provisions,  but  nbdul 


fT- 


.^'^» 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


I 


;|l 


Kcrim  did  not  know  th;it  AlxiuUah  had  already  exchanged 
till'  hor^c  at  thf  bcgK^irs'  tent  for  two  sheep  and  a  ^;oat. 
'I'here  the  faitliful  horse  would  see  hai)py  days  af^ain  when 
the  grass  grew  u|>. 

After  Al)dul  Kerim  had  drunk  tea  he  went  on  to 
visit  the  (iova  C'hykying.  who  came  out  of  his  tent  and 
said  that  Takyung  Lama  had  tliat  very  (hiy  im|x)sed  on 
liim  eiglit  (hiys'  yciii^i^guk  —  that  means  that  he  must  not 
transact  any  kind  of  business,  but  must  devote  himself 
(•nlirely,  on  account  of  his  sins,  to  contemplation  in  his 
own  house.  That  was  Ane  for  us;  the  Gova  was  reduced 
t(j  a  negligitjle  (juantity. 

NLirch  .'Q.  Temi)eraturc  i,^°  in  the  night,  and  55°  •'^t 
seven  o'clock  —  this  is  spring.  Welcome  mild  sidubrious 
breezes,  come  to  thaw  our  fro/.i'n  joints  I 

Early  in  the  morning  came  a  couple  of  our  men 
tram])ing  along  with  anotlier  dog,  light  yellow,  dirty,  and 
loatlisome.  He  was  inhospital)ly  received  by  Takkar,  who 
immediately  gave  him  a  sharp  i)inch  in  the  neck,  and 
seemed  to  think  that  the  new  member  of  the  caravan  was 
(|uite  sui)erl1uous  as  long  as  he  kept  watch  himself. 

Far  in  the  north  a  solitary  Tibetan  ai)i)eared,  and 
approached  our  camj).  1  was  sitting  at  breakfast,  and  was 
hoping  that  we  should  soon  leave  this  dangerous  jjlace. 
I  went  out  and  looked  through  the  field-glass;  the  stranger 
was  making  .straight  for  our  ti-nts.  Soon  Alxlul  Kerim 
came  and  said  that  it  was  Tsongjjun  Tashi  himself,  lie 
stoiijK'd  at  some  distance  and  called  to  us  to  tie  up  our 
dogs,  for  Takkar  had  rushed  at  the  old  man,  who  defended 
himself  with  stones.  The  men  were  purposely  slow  in 
fastening  up  the  dogs,  in  order  to  give  me  time  to  put  the 
interior  of  my  tent  in  order.  On  .such  occasions  my  note- 
books and  instruments  were  crammed  into  a  rice  sack, 
which  always  stood  ready.  There  was  no  other  furniture, 
for  we  had  burned  all  European  articles  and  boxes  long 
before. 

Meanwhile,  Alxlul  Kerim  conducted  Tsongpun  Ta.shi 
into  his  tent,  which  stood  close  against  mine,  and  1  li.stened 
ill  tluii"  convt.rs.uir»n  ;u  ;i  (li,^la!n.e  (if  little  niuie  lliiiii  a 
vard.     Bv  degrees  the  talk   became,  to  say  the  least  of  it, 


i' 


I 


'1 

i 


1  ; 


LXIV 


TSONGPUN  TASHI 


3'7 


livdv     Tsonfrpun  Tashi   raised   his  voice  more   and   more. 
and'Alxlul   Kcrim  was  evidently  in  a  serious  dilemma. 

"Did  vou  not  i)romisc  to  give  me  the  black  horse  in 
exchange  'for  butter?  Brin«  the  horse  immediately.  It 
vou  do  not  keep  your  word.  I  will  <ielain  the  whole  pack 
of  you  here.  We  do  not  let  men  that  break  their  word 
escape  in  Bongba.  I  thc^ught  yesterday  that  you  were 
honest  men,  but  now  I  sec  what  you^  are  up  to.  .Now 
1  shall  begin  by  searching  your  tents." 

With  that  he  got  up  as  angry  as  a  wasp  and  went  out_ 
But  Gulam,  who  was  always  alert  and  never  lost  a  word  ol 
a  conversation,  had  let  Takkar  loose  again.  As  soon  as 
T-ncpun  Tashi  showed  himself  at  the  tent  door  the  dog 
flcnv  at  him  again.  He  back.xl.  and  Alxlul  seized  the 
opportunitv  to  call  out  in  a  gruff  voice:  ''^^^^^  take 
Hajji  Bab'a  with  you  and  go  and  l(K)k  for  the  lost  horse. 
"What  horse  is  that?"  asked  Ts)ngpun. 
"It  is  one  of  our  horses  which  has  run  away  up  the 
mountain,  and  we  cannot  set  out  till  we  have  found  him." 

"What   colour   is   he?"    asked    Tsongpun  with    uncom- 
fortable inciuisitiveness.  u    i     ro;     u  ,   ;,, 
"Grev"    replied    Alxlul    Kenm,   who   had    difficulty   in 
concealing  his  uneasiness,  for  it  was  he  who  had  pledged 
the  black  steed  without  knowing  whether  it  was  still  in   our 

^^u^Very  well,  I   shaU   stay  here   till  you   have   found   the 

grey  horse."  .       ,        ,    „ 

'  During  the  minute  this  conver,s;ition  lasted  Isongpun 
Tashi  had  walke<l  towards  the  opening  of  my  tent,  when 
Kutus  came  running  up  from  the  other  side,  seized  me 
by  the  collar,  and  whispered  "Come."  We  hurried  oti  to 
a  crag  on  the  north-east,  and  so  just  escaped  the  clutches 
of  Tsongpun. 

"What  man  is  that?"  the  old  man  asked,  pointing  at 
me,  who  was  making  off  with  clumsy  waddling  steps. 

"Hajji    Baba,    one    of    my    servants,"    answered    Abdul 

Kerim,  without  moving  a  muscle.  .  .       j 

We  did  not  look  round  as  we  went  off  to  the  pomt,  and 

were  glad  when  at  length  we  were  hidden  l)y  a  projecting 

rock.    Then  we  scrambled   up  a    fissure  whence  we  could 


l! 


'■i^-Stjiiv;' 


Tt- 


—  ^  '   --- 


3'« 


TRANS  HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


[IIH 


sec  all  anjund.  Ikn-  wc  lay  a  weary  time  with  our  hearts 
in  our  mouths,  while  'I'sonj^pun  Tashi  waited  for  the  run- 
away hor.^e,  which  hail  not  run  away  at  all,  for  all  our 
anirnals  .sto<Kl  rea<ly  ladin  before  our  tents.  Hut  he  must 
have  lost  i)atience.  After  Oaffar  had  gone  to  the  tent  to 
try  and  get  back  the  black  horse,  but  met  with  a  refusal, 
for  the  horse  had  been  fed  with  barley  and  was  getting  on 
si)lendidly,  Tsongpun  Tashi  seemed  to  make  in  that  direc- 
tion himself,  accompanied  by  (laiTar.  But  he  changed  his 
mind,  for  he  turned  back  half  way,  and  soon  we  saw  him 
going  to  the  fme  tent  <jf  the  soul  doctor,  which  stood  alxjut 
300  yards  farther  down  the  valley.  He  was  attended  by 
one  of  our  men,  who  helped  him  to  carry  the  sacks 
in  which  the  goods  accjuired  the  previous  day  were 
packed. 

We     remained     quiet    in     our     hiding  place     of     much- 
weathered  green  schist,  full  of  (juartz  veins,  from  which  we 
could    peep     out    without     being   seen.     We    were    supposed 
to  be  looking  for  the  lost  horse.     Ikit  now  the  caravan  was 
ready,  and  began  to  move  down  the  valley  past  the  abbot's 
tent.     Tson'/pun  Tashi's  errand  had   been  to  take   farewell 
of  the  prel,   c,  who  was  setting  out  this  day  for  Mendong- 
gompa,  absolutely  unknown  in  all  the  maps  in  the  world, 
and  his  yaks  stood  tethered  and  surrounded  by  a  troop  of 
servants.     Abdul     Kerim    was   shrewd    enough    to    send    no 
messenger  after  us,  but  leave  us  to  take  care  of  ourselves. 
And  so  we  did  when  we  had  had  enough  of  the  green  schist 
—  we  could  not  lie  still  till  doomsday.     But  we  had  to  pass 
the  abbot's  tent,  and   there  sat  Tsongpun  Tashi,  unless  he 
were    among    the    men    outside.     We    sneaked    on.     Kutus 
walked    next    the    tent    to    screen    mc.     My    disguise    was 
perfect,   and    I   had    a    black    face.     We   passed  with    some 
trepidation    quite    close    to    the    tent;     two     savage    dogs 
rushed    at    us   and    we   threw   stones   at   them,   thereby  de- 
ranging our  order  of  march  and  making  a  change  of  front. 
Confounded   dogs!     We  had   passed   the   tent,   and,   so  far, 
had  done  well.     But  if  Tsongpun  Tashi  noticed   us  —  and 
he   could    scarcclv  fail    to   rlo   so,   for   the    dogs   barked   so 
furiously  —  he    would   certainly   wonder   in    which   direction 
the  grey  horse  had  made   otT.     If    he  had  no  suspicion  of 


=-t:^l 


I.XIV 


TSONGPUN   TASHI 


319 


us  he  must  Ik-,  Inyond  comparison,  the  f^rcatcst  ass  that  I 
had   ever   falkn   in   with. 

VVc  made  haste  and  .s<K)n  overtook  the  others,  and 
were  lost  amont^  tliem.  The  valley  sloped  down  -  a  fortu- 
nate thin^;  for  me,  as  I  had  to  travel  on  foot  where  so 
many  i)itfalls  surrounded  me  on  all  sides.  Alxlul  Kerim 
nxle  j;randly  on  n.y  horse  at  the  head  of  the  party.  On 
the  left  were  a  while  and  blue  and  a  black,  tent  wi'th  twenty 
yaks.  Two  men  hurried  up  to  us,  and  Alxlul  Kerim  met 
and  .spoke  to  them.  We  marched  alonj^  the  ice  belt  of  the 
bro<jk,  and  passed  five  more  tents,  and,  at  all,  the  men 
came  out  to  look  at  us.  I  walked  with  the  sheep  farther 
from  the  tents  th  m  the  caravan.  We  passed  twenty  tents 
that  day;  it  was  a  dangerous  .stretch  of  country,  and  it  was 
strange  that  we  came  through  .safely. 

A  woman,  carrying  a  load  of  w(K)1  on  her  back,  over- 
took us.  She  was  so  bold  as  to  join  herself  to  the  caravan 
and  ask  to  be  alUnved  to  put  her  wool  on  one  of  the  yaks. 
Never  have  I  so  heartily  wished  a  woman  at  the  devil. 
Alxlul  Rasak  took  the  woman  in  hand  and  offered  to  carry 
half  her  load  to  her  tent,  and  so  they  jogged  along  the 
road  far  ahead,  and  freed  us  from  her  suspicious  company. 
We  took  it  for  granted  that  she  was  a  spy.  When  we 
encamped  Ix-low  a  sheepfold,  there  she  Wc.s  again,  estab- 
lished herself  inside  the  fold,  lighted  a  fire  and  fetched 
water.  She  must  drink  tea  before  she  went  on  home- 
wards, she  said;  but  fortunately  she  toddled  off  Iteiorc 
dusk. 

I  sat  in  the  setting  sun  and  noted  down  the  vat.ed 
incidents  of  the  day.  I  siit  in  the  opening  of  my  tent 
enjoying  the  soothing  rustle  of  the  spring,  when  what 
should  I  see  but  Takkar  himself,  who  came  up  to  me 
anxiously  and  humbly,  made  the  most  expressive  gestures, 
put  his  head  on  one  side  and  began  to  paw  my  arm.  I 
looked  at  him  and  he  looked  at  me,  and  at  last  we  under- 
stood each  other. 

"I  could  not  know,"  he  said,  "that  you  were  nice  men 
when  you  tied  me  by  the  neck  to  this  horrible  tent  pole. 
I  thought  that  you  would  tease  and  torment  and  starve  mc, 
and  throw  stones  and  dirt  at  me,  as  the  Tibetans  have  done 


ir 


K 


ji 


-a 


'P'X^- 


_-*.^.ir- 


320 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP.  LXIV 


H 


over  since  I  can  rememlxT.  Hut  I  see  that  you  are  well 
disposed  towards  me.  and  «ive  ine  two  gcHKl  meals  of 
mutton  every  day.  1  know  that  you,  in  spite  of  your  ra^s, 
are  a  lx)ml)o  chimlx),  and  that  Alxlul  Kerim  is  only  a  ser- 
vant. Be  at  ease.  1  will  not  let  any  <jne  come  near  your 
tent;  I  will  watch  over  you  at  ni^lit,  I  will  never  betray 
you,  I  will  follow  you  everywhere;  you  may  trust  in  me. 
Hut  now  come  and  play  with  me  a  little;  take  away  this 
useless  tenl  pole,  and  let  us  Ik.-  no  longer  strangers." 

His  shrewd  brown  eyes  showed  plainly  that  this  was 
what  he  meant  to  say,  word  for  word.  1  t(M)k  his  shaggy 
head  in  my  arms  and'  s(|ueezed  it.  Then  he  jumpe<l  up  on 
me  and  began  to  dance  ancl  yelp  with  joy,  and  enticed  me 
out  of  my  tent.  Then  I  took  hold  of  him  again,  untied 
the  knots,  and  released  him  from  his  p<)lc,  to  thf  great 
astonishment  of  my  men,  who  were  sitting  in  the  open 
around  a  fire.  No  one  had  ever  ventured  so  near  to 
Takkar,  except  Little  Puppy,  and  without  the  slightest 
jealousy  the  little  cub  joined  in  the  game,  which  hence- 
forth whiled  av\ay  daily  a  couple  of  hours  of  my  weary 
captivity. 


-•S; 


CHAPTER  LXV 

BUPTSANG -TSANGPO,  ONE  OF  THE  LARGEST  RIVERS  OF  THE 
HEART   OF  TIBET 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  wc  broke  up  our  camp 
on  March  30,  after  we  had  succeeded  in  extricating  our- 
selves from  the  net  which  had  so  nearly  held  us  fast  in  its 
meshes.  Through  here  runs  the  so-called  Scnmn-lam,  or 
gold  inspectors'  road,  which  extends  through  the  interior 
of  Tibet  from  Lhasa  to  Tok-jalung,  and  is  one  of  the 
greatest  highroads  of  the  country.  We  did  not  yet  feel 
quite  safe,  but  we  had  heard  some  assuring  news:  Karma 
Puntso  had  taken  a  journey  of  several  days  northwards 
to  a  place  in  Chang-tang  where  he  owned  large  flocks  of 
sheep.  Most  of  the  nomads  in  Bongba  had  sent  their 
sheep  to  the  north  where  the  grazing  was  much  better. 
This  was  of  great  advantage  to  us,  for  now  only  women, 
old  men,  and  children  remained  in  the  tents  of  Bongba, 
while  most  of  the  men  were  following  the  sheep.  It  was 
part  of  the  trial  of  my  patience  that  I  could  not  have  the 
sUghtest  dealings  with  Tilx-tans,  for  I  should  have  betrayed 
myself  at  once  by  my  defective  utterance  of  the  language. 
I  'never  talked  with  them,  but  pulled  the  strings  of  my 
marionettes  from  my  place  of  concealment. 

The  wild-geese  had  now  commenud  their  migrations, 
and  we  constantly  heard  their  cries  above  our  tents.  On 
March  30  we  found  an  excellent  path  along  the  river  in 
which  we  had  caught  fish  just  Ix-Iow  Ladung-la.  The 
country  was  very  open  and  flat,  and  we  passed  at  some 
distance  from  twelve  lenls.  Near  the  last  wc  pitchevi 
camp  368  and   bought  a  black  horse.    We  had   now   four 

VOL.    II  ill  V 


■'i»T''"-''-°=2-s«,'>-,*-«=i:aT-- 


322 


TRANS -PII  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


horses,  of  which  one  was  a  veteran  from  Ladak ;  now  I 
rode  the  first  horse  we  had  bought  —  a  brown  one.  The 
last  three  mules  and  the  t^^o  yaks  from  the  Tsong-tso  were 
in  good  condition.  When  we  encamped  near  natives, 
Takkar  was  tied  up  outside  the  entrance  to  my  tent  to 
keep  off  inquisitive  visitors.  He  had  been  bred  and  reared 
among  Tibetans,  and  had  never  seen  any  other  j)eoplc  in 
his  life  till  lately,  and  yet  now  he  became  mad  with  rage  if 
he  saw  a  Tibetan  only  at  a  distance.  I  had  often  to  pay 
various  sums  in  rupees  to  those  of  his  two-leggetl  fellow- 
countrymen  whose  brcechesless  legs  he  had  bitten,  and  he 
was  never  contented  without  a  slight  effusion  of  blood. 

We  followed  the  river  south-south-westwards  for  another 
day's  journey  to  camp  369,  where  some  poor  nomads  were 
encamping  by  a  sheet  of  snow.  Sha-kangsham's  summit 
came  into  sight  again,  this  time  to  the  north,  30°  E.,  rising 
like  a  gigantic  Ix'acon  above  the  mountains.  Five  days' 
journey  to  the  west-north-west  was  pointed  out  the  salt 
lake,  Tabie-tsaka,  the  position  of  which  I  had  sought  in 
vain  to  ascertain  from  the  lasam.  In  the  afternoon  when 
I  sat  outsit'e  to  draw  a  panorama,  nomads  were  strolling 
and  peering  about  so  that  I  had  to  post  watchmen.  In 
the  evening  all  around  was  pitch  dark:  there  was  no  moon, 
only  dense  clouds.  Our  animals  had  disappeared,  and  as 
there  was  good  reason  to  fear  wolves  and  horse-stealcrs, 
eight  men  were  sent  out  to  look  for  them.  They  had 
revolvers,  and  fired  a  few  shots  to  let  any  possible  disturbers 
of  the  peace  know  that  we  were  armed.  The  animals 
would  not  freeze,  for  the  temperature  fell  in  the  night  only 
to  18°,  and  in  the  morning  they  had  come  back  again  all 
right.  The  only  one  missing  was  the  greyish  yellow  dog; 
thinking,  perhaps,  that  he  had  fallen  into  bad  company,  he 
had  gnawed  through  his  rope  and  run  home  in  the  night  to 
his  miserable  tent. 

Now  the  path  runs  south-south-west  up  to  the  little 
easy  pass  Satsot  la  (15,932  feet)  in  red  porphyry  and  with 
a  way-mark.  In  the  wide  valley  in  front  of  us  lies  the 
lake  Chunit  tso,  and  on  its  farther  side  rises  a  red  mountain 
of  regular  form.  We  pass  several  niatjis,  and  on  the  right 
hand   a   miniature   lake   called    Chabuk-tso,   where   Tubges 


IXV 


BUPTSANG-TSANGPO 


3^3 


shot  two  wild-geese.  The  honorary  huntsman  often  sup- 
plied me  with  game;  he  was  called  by  his  comrades  simply 
Shyok,  after  his  home,  just  as  we  call  one  of  our  acquaint- 
ances Jonkoping  or  Falsterbo. 

We  crossed  a  great  road  running  to  the  north-west ; 
hundreds  of  yaks  had  recently  passed  —  no  doubt  a  salt 
caravan  on  the  way  to  Tabie-tsaka.  Then  we  passed  a 
circular  wall,  where  a  solitary  man  came  out  and  looked  at 
us,  but  retired  behind  the  wall  when  he  found  that  we  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  him.  A  fine  matii  decorated  with 
horhs  stood  on  a  terrace,  and  just  Ix^low  it  we  halted  for 
the  night  by  a  sheet  of  ice  produced  by  springs.  We  had 
scarcely  set  up  the  tents  when  a  caravan  of  several  hundred 
sheep,  laden  with  salt,  came  along  from  the  north-west. 
Only  two  armed  guides  were  with  it;  they  had  been  to 
Tab-'  -tsaka  and  were  now  going  home  to  Yangchut-tanga, 
twenty  days'  journey  to  the  south-east.  In  the  same  direc- 
tion 400  yaks  were  grazing,  which  were  said  to  belong 
to  the  gova  of  the  district.  In  the  evening  we  had  a  visit 
from  a  traveller  who  was  going  home  to  his  tent  farther 
souiii.  He  promised  to  sell  us  three  sht.'p  in  the  morning. 
Would  he  keep  his  word? 

Yes,  certainly;  he  met  us  with  the  sheep  next  day  as 
we  were  passing  along  the  western  shore  of  the  Chunit-tso 
(15,574  feet)  southwards.  At  the  northern  extremity  of 
the  lake  a  warm  sulphurous  spring  burst  forth.  We  were 
told  that  if  a  man  drinks  of  it  he  Ixxomes  ill,  but  if  he 
mi.xes  the  water  with  some  from  an  adjacent  cold  spring  he 
is  cured  of  any  complaint  he  may  suffer  from.  Sick  sheep 
and  g(jats  are  dipped  in  the  warm  water  and  become  well 
again  at  once.  The  spring  is  holy,  and  a  muni  heap  is  set 
up  near  it.  The  lake  is  slightly  salt  and  fro/x-n.  Two 
small  brooks  enter  it  from  the  mountains  on  the  west;  a 
third  brook,  Lungnak-bupchu,  formed  a  large  sheet  of  ice, 
and  in  the  mouth  of  its  valley  stood  a  couple  of  tents, 
and  their  dogs  came  down  on  us  like  a  whirlwind,  but 
received  such  a  thrashing  from  Takkar  that  they  showed 
themselves  no  more  that  evening. 

April  3.  We  left  the  southern  end  of  the  lake  Isehind  us 
and  ascended  a  small  valley  leading  up  to  the  low  pass  Xima- 


i)i 


*ll 


:}      I 

i 

i 


324 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


'if. 

L 


lung-la,  near  which  \vc  encamped  in  a  barren  spot  Ixtween 
granite  crags.  An  eagle-owl  sat  in  a  cleft  and  at  twilight 
uttt.-red  its  shrill  piercing  cry.  Lol)sang  said  that  this  bird 
was  thought  much  of  in  tilx-t,  because  it  warns  honest 
men  of  thieves  and  roblxTs.  When  the  eagle-owls  sit  and 
scream,  roblx,'rs  are  certain  to  be  in  the  neighlxjurhood. 

On  April  4  we  had  only  half  an  hour's  march  to  the 
threshold  of  the  Xima-lung-la  (16,017  feet),  from  which 
there  is  a  magnificent  view  over  the  Trans-Himalaya  — 
a  series  of  dark  rocks  with  black,  snow-crowned  peaks. 
Between  us  and  the  range  extended  a  wide  perfectly  level 
I^lain,  full  of  pools,  marshes,  and  rivulets.  At  one  of  them 
sat  two  Tibetans  cutting  up  a  yak  which  had  died.  They 
confirmed  the  information  we  had  received  before,  that  we 
were  now  in  the  district  Bongba-kemar,  a  day's  journey 
from  Bongba-kebyang,  and  that  we  must  follow  the  river 
Buptsang-tsang[)0  for  several  days  upwards  to  reach  Saka- 
dzong  by  the  pass  Samye-la.  I  had  still  a  very  dim  and 
indistinct  notion  of  the  geograi^hical  configuration  of  this 
region.  Was  the  range  in  front  of  us  to  the  south  a  con- 
tinuation of  Nien-chen-tang-la,  which  I  had  crossed  at  the 
Sela-la,  Chang-la-P(xl-la  and  Angden-la;  or  was  it  another 
range  disconnected  from  the  former?  During  the  following 
days  we  should  obtain  an  answer  to  this  question.  Should 
we  Ix!  successful,  and  be  able  to  complete  this  exceedingly 
important  meridional  traverse  through  an  unknown  part  of 
Tibet?  It  would  Ix;  more  than  provoking  to  be  stopped 
just  at  the  northern  foot  of  the  Trans-Himalaya. 

Camp  374  was  pitched  below  the  opening  of  a  valley 
where  there  were  two  tents.  The  nomads  warned  us 
against  the  water  in  the  pools  of  the  plain:  our  horses 
would  lose  their  hair  if  they  drank  of  it.  "Snoring" 
Kunchuk  complained  of  toothache,  but  was  cured  at  once 
by  two  resolute  comrades.  The  operation  was  performed 
with  pincers  properly  intended  for  horse-shoe  nails.  To 
get  at  the  tooth  better,  they  put  a  stone  in  the  patient's 
mouth.  "Do  not  kill  me,"  he  shriekcxi  when  the  tooth 
jumped  out. 

On  April  5  wc  travelknl  altogether  10^  miles  to  the 
south.    Th     country  was  perfectlv  barren,  and  the  ground 


tavtHStja 


utv 


BUPTSANG-TS  \NGPO 


325 


was  entirely  covered  with  red  porphyry  detritus.  A  small 
spring  surrounded  by  grass  seemed  to  us  quite  an  oasis, 
and    there    we    encamped    near    a    sheepfold    and    a    mam 

heap. 

Another  day's  march  and  we  came  to  the  Buptsang- 
tsangyw,  "the  deeply  excavated  river,"  and  followed  it  to 
the  south.  The  river  is  divided  into  several  arms,  and 
already  contained  a  deal  of  water,  though  for  the  most 
])art  it  was  frozen.  This  valley  is  about  3  miles  broad 
and  has  a  very  gentle  slope.  The  locality  where  we 
encamped  after  passing  fourteen  tents  was  called  Monlam- 
gongma  (15,820  feet).  Hence  the  river  was  said  to  flow 
tive  days'  journey  to  the  north-north-west  and  pour  into  a 
large  lake,  called  the  Tarok-tso.  We  might  have  attempted 
to  make  an  excursion  in  that  direction,  but  it  was  more 
important  to  complete  the  meridional  line  while  the  country 
was  still  open  to  us.  Two  huge  snowy  peaks  which  the 
nomads  here,  as  on  the  tasav:,  called  Lunpo-gangri,  or 
"the  great  ice  mountain,"  were  said  to  lie  to  the  right 
of  the  route  we  ought  to  follow  to  Saka-dzong.  This 
information  was  exceedingly  puzzling,  and  I  saw  that 
Lunpo-gangri  with  the  summits  triangulated  by  Ryder 
and  Wood  could  not  be  a  prolongation  of  the  mighty 
range  I  had  crossed  by  three  passes,  and  which,  farther 
cast,  bears  the  name  Xien-chen-tang-la. 

After  a  vain  attempt  to  get  rid  of  our  enfeebled  yaks, 
we  continued  up  the  great  river  along  its  right  or  eastern 
bank  terrace.  A  south-westerly  storm  which  commenced 
some  days  before  still  continued.  In  the  Amchung  country 
(camp  376)  we  had  a  neighbour  called  Kamba  Dramdul, 
who  could  not  give  much  information,  but  what  he  said 
was  of  deep  interest.  We  had  still  some  days'  journey  to  the 
Samvc-la  —  all  up  the  Buptsang-tsangpo  valley,  with  ^attgris 
or  snowy  heights  on  lx)th  the  right  and  left  sides.  On  the 
pass  we  should  be  quite  close  to  the  peaks  of  Lunpo- 
gangri.  I  already  suspected  that  the  great  range  we  had 
on  our  k  ft  —  that  is,  towards  the  east  —  was  a  continuation 
of  Xien-chen-tang-la,  vvhile  Lunpo-gangri  was  a  quite 
in('eDe""'cnt  chain  without  the  li'ast  connection  with  the 
former. 


t 


(  «' 


i 


326 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


:i,l> 


J' 


The  eastern  range  increased  in  magnitude  on  the 
following  (lay's  march,  and  among  its  dark  ramifications 
rose  some  rather  flat  summits  ca])\)v(\  with  eternal  snow. 
VVe  kiiit  for  the  most  part  to  the  top  of  the  terrace  on  the 
right  ,  ank,  wliich  was  50  to  65  feet  aljove  the  river,  and 
fell  steei)Iy  to  the  even  valley  Ijottom  where  the  stream 
meandered.  Here  the  valley  was  alx)Ut  2  miles  broad. 
The  ice  mantle  of  the  river  became  wider  and  thicker  the 
higher  we  mounted,  but  the  rise  was  very  gradual.  From 
camp  377  the  culminating  peak  of  Lunpo-gangri  lay  south, 
2f  E.  Every  day's  journey  we  accomplished  'without 
adventures  strengthened  our  position.  The  nomads  must 
think:  If  these  men  travel  right  through  the  whole  of 
Bonglm  without  being  stopped,  they  cannot  Ix-  impostors. 

On   Aj)ril    10   we   travelled    8^   miles   up   the   Buptsang- 
tsangpo,  and   we  were  astonished   to  find   so  voluminous  a 
river   up   on    the    isolated    plateau   countrv.     On   its    banks 
ducks  and   geese   cackled   in   large    numk-rs.     Tubges   shot 
several  of  them;    it   was  a  sin   to  disturb  their  dreams  of 
spring  and   love.     No   human   being  was  seen   this  day.     I 
had  a  feeling  of  repose  when  we  could  see  no  black  tents, 
and   for   the   sake   of   peace    I    would    readilv   abstain   from 
S()ur   milk.      The    view   to   the    south-south-east    was    mag- 
nificent;   the   peaks   of  Lunpo-gangri  sto(xl  out  against  the 
jiure  blue  sky  in  dazzling  white,  with  shades  of  light  blue 
mdicating  ice.     On   the  east  also  of  our  route  appeared   a 
whole  workl  of  mountains.     Most  uncxpectedlv  the  summits 
of  Lunpo-gangri  have  a  much  grander  and  more  imposing 
appearance    from    the    northern    side,    towards    the    plateau 
country,    than    from    the    south    side,    the    valley    of    the 
Brahmaputra,  most  probably  because  on    the  southern    side 
they  are   to^  near.     Up  in   the   north  we  saw  them   at  all 
distances,  and  for  several  davs  we  had  them  right  in  front 
of  us. 

In  the  night  of  April  11  the  temperature  sank  to  -  1.7°, 
and  on  the  preceding  nights  to  3.7°,  13.5°,  and  17.2°.  The 
cold  increased  as  we  mounted  higher.  We  came  to  an 
expansion  in  the  valley  where  three  glacier  streams  unite 
to  f,,rm  the  Ruptsang-tsangpo,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Hrahmaj)utra,    and    also   on    the    northern    Hank   of   one   of 


i 


^m^ 


'I' 


I) 


\ 


nU  PTSAXG-TSAXG  PO 


327 


the  world's  mif^hticst  mountain  systems.  Our  camp  379 
(16,112  feet)  was  pitched  close  to  the  river  in  Hupyunf^- 
ring.  The  eastern  headwater  comes  j)artly  from  the  Sam- 
ye-la,  partly  from  mountains  arljoininj;  on  the  south-west. 
The  middle  one  descends  from  a  massive  called  Vallak- 
mallak,  and  the  western  from  Chom()-f,Mnf^ri;  south-cast 
of  this  mountain  is  Lunpo-gangri,  which  is  drained  to 
the  sea,  both  from  its  northern  and  its  southern  flank 
(Illustrations  319,  320,  321). 

Hupyung-ring  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most  lx;autiful 
regions  I  have  seen  in  Tilxt.  The  flat  wide  valley, 
surrounded  by  mountains  with  ice  and  snow,  is  clothed 
with  abundant  grass  and  traversed  by  numerous  water- 
courses. Everywhere  arc  seen  traces  of  cam[)ing-places. 
At  the  time  we  passed  through  only  a  few  tent  villages 
remained,  but  the  valley  is  full  of  life  in  summer  when 
the  nomads  come  down  from  the  north,  \^■hen  the 
melting  of  the  snows  properly  sets  in  during  summer,  and 
afterwarr's  in  the  rainy  season,  the  Buptsang-tsangpo 
swells  up  so  tremendously  that  the  river  cannot  Ix.^  crossed 
for  three  months,  and  communication  lx.'tween  the  banks 
is  interrupted.  From  its  source  to  its  outlet  in  the 
Tarok-tso  the  river  is  probably  nearly  100  miles  long,  and 
is  possibly  the  largest  river  in  Tilx't  which  does  not  flow 
to  the  sea.  The  only  rivers  that  can  vie  with  it  arc  the 
Sachu-tsangpo,  which  flows  into  the  Zilling-tso,  and  the 
Soma-tsangpo,  which  falls  into  the  Teri-nam-tso.  The 
Sachu-tsangpo  was  far  larger  than  the  Buptsang  when  I 
crossed  it  in  the  rainy  season  in  1901.  But  the  Buptsang 
is  also  a  large  river  in  spring,  and  in  the  rainy  season 
must  swell  as  much  as  the  Sachu.  The  Buptsang-tsangpo 
has  hitherto  lx>en  unknown  to  Europeans,  but  we  find  the 
Tarok-tso  on  D'Anville's  map,  and  a  river  entering  the 
lake  from  the  south,  which  no  doubt  is  identical  with 
the  Buptsang-tsangpo.  The  Jesuits  who  resided  in  Pekin 
two  hundred  years  ago,  and  were  ordered  by  the  Emperor 
Kang  Hi  to  compile  a  map  of  the  whole  Chinese  Empire, 
procured  information  even  about  this  remote  region  from 
Chinese  and   Tiix-'ian  sources. 

During   the    past   days   our   two    yaks   had    lx;comc    so 


.?-'» 


TKAXS-HIMALAYA 


I 


wearied  and  footsore  that  we  had  to  }^et  rid  of  them  at  any 
price.  We  therefore  stayed  a  day  in  Bui)yun},'  and  bar- 
tered them  for  nine  shee]).  which  took  over  the  loads  of 
the  yaks.  Now  we  ha<l  again  thirty-one  sheep  and  some 
goats. 
On  th 


commenc  k 
Here  were 
children. 


1 :5th  we  came  to  the  foot  of  the  mf)Untain  where 
the    actual    steej)    ascent    to    the    pass    itself, 
fuur  tents   inhabited   e.\clu>ively   by   women  and 
The   men    had   gone   a   coui)le   of  days   Ix-fore   to 
(}()va    Tsepten's    tent.     It    is    incuml)ent    on    this    chief    to 
collect    a    certain    number    of    men    and    yaks,    which    for 
about    three    months    are    posted    on    the    l<isa»i    ready    to 
tran>port  goods  on   behalf  of  the    DiAashung  without  com- 
pensation.    This  is  a   kind   of  con-cc  which   is  exacted   not 
only  all  along  the  road  l)etween  Lhasa  and   Ladak,  but  on 
all   other   great   high-roads   in   Tibet.     Naturally   this    inju- 
dicious  svstem   is  a   great   annf)yance   to   the   nomads,   who 
have   to  leave   their   Hocks  in   the   meantime   to  the   care  of 
women    and    children.     If    any    one    wishes    to    escai)e    this 
compulsory  service  he   must   supj)ly  a  substitute,   pay  him, 
and    furnish    him    with    yaks    and    provisions.     The    year 
before,    when    we    travelled    with    hired    horses    from    Shi- 
gatse,    the    i)oor    nomads    served    us,  but    we    always    paid 
them'    honourably     and     gave     them     handsome     gratuities 

as  well. 

After  a  night  temperature  of  -0.8°  we  rode  uj)  to  the 
pass  on  the  14th,  over  and  between  hills  and  across  the 
brook  which  brings  its  tribute  from  the  Samve-lr  to  the 
Ikii)t>ang-tsangpo.  Solid  rock  could  not  be  found,  but  all 
the  detritus  and  lK)ulders  were  of  grey  granite;  seldom 
was  a  piece  of  porphyry  noticed.  The  usual  observa- 
tions were  made  on  the  pass,  and  the  lxjiling-point_  ther- 
mometer was  read  olT.  The  view  of  Luni)o-gangri  was 
grander  than  ever,  now  that  its  peaks  were  quite  near. 
The  distinctly  marked  valley  of  the  Buptsang-tsangpo 
disappeared  in  the  distance  to  the  north-north-west,  while 
to  the  south-east  nothing  could  be  seen  but  a  flat  saddle, 
whence  T  cf)ncludetl  that  we  were  not  yet  on  the  actual 
water-parting  pass.  We  had  not  followed  the  track  of  the 
caravan  far,  before  wc  saw  a  brook  coming  from  the  south- 


\ 


IXV 


BUITSAXG-TSAXGPO 


3-29 


cast,  which  also  Ix-lonj^cd  to  the  HuptsanK-tsangpo.  On 
its  bank,  whiTc  we  also  hahcd,  was  encamped  a  caravan  of 
eight  men  and  350  yaks,  which  was  carrying  salt  to  Saka- 
dzong,  six  (lays'  march  farther.  These  men  could  not 
understand  why  we,  merchants  fnjm  Ladak,  chose  such  a 
way.  and  asked  how  we  ftjund  it  out.  They  were  treated 
to  the  usual  story  alxjut  the  wo(<l-trade  in  summer,  and 
they  regretted  that  they  could  not  serve  us  with  their  yaks, 
as  they  were  called  out  for  Government  transport  on  the 
great  high-roads.  Xow  we  wondered  whether  they  would 
let  the  Governor  of  Saka-dzong  know  that  they  had  met 
with  a  party  of  Ladakis  on  byways,  and  if  this  news  would 
injure  us.  Perhajjs,  after  all,  it  would  be  best  to  avoid 
Saka-dzong  altogether. 

On  -April  15  it  was  our  chief  desire  to  get  in  advance 
of  the  yak  caravan.  Hefore  they  had  begun  to  load  up 
their  animals  I  started  otT  with  the  sheep,  and  came  in  good 
time  to  the  summit  of  the  Samye-la  with  its  streamer- 
decked  poles.  Though  we  were  all  the  way  in  sight  of 
the  yak-men's  camp,  I  must,  at  any  cost,  determine  the 
height  of  the  pass,  and  the  distance  was  so  great  that  they 
could  not  see  what  we  were  doing.  After  boiling  the 
thermometer,  whence  we  obtained  a  height  of  18,133  feet, 
I  also  drew  a  panoram;i.  To  the  south  and  south-east  was 
a  world  of  mountains  belonging  to  the  Lun{)o-gangri  ange, 
which  lay  to  the  south,  and  to  Xien  chen-tang-la  on  the 
north.  We  were  therefore  standing  on  the  actual  water- 
shed Ix'twccn  two  gigantic  ranges,  which  are  both  mcmlx.Ts 
of  the  Trans-IIimalayan  family.  And  this  pass,  the  Sam.ye- 
la.  occupies  the  highest  and  most  important  rank  from  a 
hydrograi)hic  and  orographical  point  of  view  that  any  pass 
in  Asia  can  lay  claim  to,  for  it  is  a  divide  between  the 
isolated  drainage  area  of  the  plateau  on  the  north  and  the 
boundless  ocean  on  the  south.  It  ranks,  then,  with  the  Sela- 
la,  Chang-la-Pod-la,  and  .Angden-la,  and  is  much  more  im- 
portant than  the  Tseti-lachen-la,  which  is  only  a  watershed 
between  the  Sutlej  and  the  Indus,  and  than  the  Jukti-la, 
which  parts  the  waters  between  the  two  arms  of  the  Indus. 
.'\l  the  Samye-Ia  I  attained  my  chief  desire,  to  cross  the 
Trans-Himalaya  between  the  Tseti-lachen-la  and  the  Ang- 


330 


TRAXS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


n, 

'f 


(It-n-Ia,   anrl  ^ain  another  point   on   the   immense   lH)un(lary 
h'ne  on  the  north  of  tlie  basins  of  thi-  «reat   Indian  rivers, 
and    I    succeeded    in    i)rovinK'    the    unhroken    continuance 
of   the   Trans-Himalaya    U)V    iiS   miles   west   of   An^den  la. 
A   most   extraordinarily    interesting   discovery   also   was   that 
the    An^'den  la    and    the    Samye  la,    thou.ijh    of    exactly    the 
same   value  as  watersheds,   do  not   lie  on  the  same  cham. 
The  An-^den-la   is  situated   on   the  western   prolonj^Mtion  ()f 
the  chain   which   stands  on   the  southern   shore  of  TenKri- 
nor,  and  is  known   hv  the  name  of  Xien-chen-tan,t,'-la,  hut 
the'  Samve-la    lies    in    a    lon<,'itU(linal    valley    l)etween    this 
chain   and    Luni)o-^'anf,m.     Accordin.t^dy.    I   could   strike  out 
once    and    for    all    the    continuous    mountain    ranj^e    which 
Hodgson    and    Saunders   constructed    at    their   writing' table, 
and   represented   as   running'   north   of   the   upper    Brahma- 
putra.    Here   also   I    considered   what    name    I    should   f^ive 
to  the  colossal   mountain   system   which   runs   in   the   north 
parallel    to   the    Himalavas.     The   name    Lunpo-f^'angri    had 
at    least    as    much    claim    as    Xien-chen-tanj^-la,    but    both 
were  unsuitable,  as  they  only  denoted  certain  ranj^es  in  a 
whole    system,    and    therefore    had    only    local    si<j;nificance. 
Then  it  came  to  me  like  a  Hash  —  Trans-Himalaya  is  the 
name  which  I  will  attach  to  this  gigantic  mountain  system. 
While   I   sat   and   pondered   over   the   great    idea   which 
had  come  to  me  this  day  without  any  merit  of  my  own,  I 
was  recalled  to  the  buHncss  of  the   moment   by   Lobsang, 
who  informed   me   that   die   yaks  were  moving   in   a   black 
line  up  to  the   pass.     Then   we  got   up  and   went   on   foot 
down    the   slopes    bestrewn    with    troublesome    rubbish   and 
granite    boulders.     Soon    trickling    rivulets   collected    into    a 
small  brook.     I  regarded  with  pleasure  this  little  stream  leap- 
ing among  the  stones,  and  listened  to  its  jjurling  song.     It 
was  the  old  melodv,  and  we  had  recently  heard  it  from  the 
broc'-s    of    the    Buptsang-tsangjx).     And    yet    I    seemed    to 
hear  an  undertone  of  another  kind,  a  sound  in  the  water 
which    suggested    a    new    aim.     The    Buptsang-tsangjx)^    is 
doomed   to  Vinal  annihilation   in  the  Tarok-tso  and  Tabie- 
tsaka,  where  the  water  is  evaporated  and  dispersed  to  the 
four   winds   of    heaven.     Tiul    the    brook   wc    now    foilowed 
debouches  into  the  Chaktak-tsangpo  and  Brahmaputra,  and 


LXV 


BU  PTSAXG-TSAXG  I'O 


3ii 


its  destiny  is  the   Indian  Ocean,  over  which  runs  the  way 
to  my  home. 

We  had  just  set  up  our  tents  before  the  yaks  came 
tramping  uj)  in  close  order,  followed  by  their  whistling  and 
sinf,'in^  drivers.  They  went  round,  not  to  come  t(M)  near 
us.  Were  they  afraid  of  us  or  were  they  sus[)icious? 
Were  they  a  cloud,  no  larper  than  a  man's  hand,  from 
which,  in  due  time,  a  destructive  tornado  was  to  burst  over 
our  little  band,  whi(  h  now  for  the  second  time  crossed  the 
forbidden  land  without  leave? 


,;«•  lif*  * 


CII.M'IKR  l.X\'I 


IN   THF:   ROnHKRS     PARADISE 

In  former  timis  the  glacier  tongues  of  Lunpo-gangri 
ran  down  into  the-  valley,  and  traces  of  them  were  very 
fonspiruous  as  we  descended  to  lower  country  on  April  i6. 
The  valley  is  (|uite  full  of  old  moraines,  consisting:;  ex- 
clusively of  ^'''iri't'-".  'i"*l  some  of  them  arc  sui)erficially 
concealed  under  fme  matter  and  moss.  \Vc  passed  the 
larj,'e  vak  caravan  aj^ain,  which  was  encamping  after  a  very 
short  march.  Evidently  the  men  intended  to  stay  over  the 
next  day,  for  the  loads  were  taken  olT  the  yaks  and  piled 
up.  Wiien  they  mean  to  set  out  again  the  next  day  they 
leave  the  loads  on  the  yaks,  for  they  think  it  too  much 
trouble  to  load  and  unload  350  yaks  for  a  single  night. 
Thev  might  stay  for  us  as  long  as  they  liked ;  we  should 
get  in  advance  and  pass  by  Saka-dzong  before  we  were 
denounced.  Hut  no,  it  would  Ix*  wiser  to  avoid  Saka-dzong 
altogether;  not  to  escape  the  sight  of  Muhamed  Isa's 
grave,  but  not  to  needlessly  expose  ourselves  to  suspicion. 
It  was  perfectly  evident  that  the  authorities  would  wonder 
why  a  small  party  of  I.adakis  went  along  byways  instead 
of  following  the  great  tasam,  and  they  would  hold  an 
inquiry  over  us. 

After  the  moraines  came  to  an  end  we  traversed  a 
more  open  expansion  of  the  valley,  with  luxuriant  grass 
and  millions  of  detestable  mouse-holes.  We  were  right  glad 
when  Takkar  [)inched  the  necks  of  one  or  two  of  these 
obnoxious    rodents.     Tubges    supplied    me    with    partridges, 

i: :  :•,:   •  r:  :v    •  *i    '  -m  :     ^*  -c:  v-   jr  :\  t  •:•..•  t    1 1  :i.    tl    •  : :  •  'j  •   ■  •!    :  :i::r.. .  F  :  •-■in   v  ti  1 1  tj  • 

3.S5    Lunpo-gangri's    summits    are    seen    foreshortened,    and 

3ii 


;2.v   WKivnis.'..     ;.•^  T-o  C.ni.m.     wi.   Ii'>v  wirit  Mm      52;.  Siu.i'ukri.  Hoy. 

(iN'lVlUiXNTS    lih     rllK    l'Ki>VIS(  K    l)V    licjMiHX,) 
Skct.  hi->  liv  the  Author. 


•,-C-''ii&''----', 


H=..'^'V: 


;>^ 


i^^i^|!^'^J^^ii$§*0^.fe'|&ly^.  v,nV^ 


'-:;.«L;Y-'itor»F  Aife^ 


» 


CHAP.  LXVI 


TN   THE   ROBBERS'    PARADISE 


333 


one  of  them  is  as  small  as  an  umbrella.  Several  peaks  are 
seen  to  the  east-south-east,  the  continuation  of  the  range, 
and  it  is  not  ditTicult  to  infer  that  Chomo-uchong,  the 
isolated  mountain  beside  the  lasum,  lies  in  the  eastern 
prolongation  of  Lunpo-gangri.  I  took  bearings  of  the 
higher  summits  in  the  neighbourhood  from  every  camj), 
and  shall  hereafter  make  known  ihe  results. 

The  other  men  make  the  "Snorer's"  life  miserable.  At 
eight  o'clock  he  crawls  into  his  lair  l)eside  the  sheej),  and 
immediately  begins  his  wood-sawing.  Some  one  yells  at 
him,  and  he  wakes  up  and  makes  some  witty  remark,  which 
makes  the  men  laugh,  and  he  never  loses  his  temper.  In 
two  minutes  he  is  asleep  again  and  sawing  as  hard  as  ever, 
and  is  roused  by  another  shout.  Only  when  the  others 
have  fallen  asleep  is  he  left  in  peace,  and  can  saw  as  hard 
as  he  likes. 

Little  Puppy  k'haves  s[)lendidly,  is  lively,  playful,  and 
affectionate.  At  night  he  sleeps  on  the  rugs  at  my  feet  and 
helps  Takkar  to  keep  watch.  They  are  my  companions, 
and  it  will  be  hard  to  part  from  them. 

April  17.  0.7°.  How  long  this  winter  has  been!  Now 
Lobsang  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  yak  drivers 
will  not  denounce  us  for  fear  lest  they  shoukl  Ix;  called  to 
account  for  not  spying  upon  us  better.  We  continue  our  way 
down  the  valley.  How  delightful  only  to  go  for  some  clays 
to  lower  country.  In  some  places  we  see  summer  camping- 
grounds  ;  now  the  country  is  desolate  and  deserted. 

The  river  carries  down  atout  70  cubic  feet  of  clear 
water  per  second;  it  has  open  water  only  in  the  middle, 
and  elsewhere  is  covered  with  margins  of  ice  2  feet  thick, 
and  icicles  hang  from  their  edges.  On  the  banks,  field- 
mice  dart  about  between  their  holes.  The  valley  contracts 
and  the  river  often  skirts  steep  clifTs  of  schist.  Most  of  the 
tributaries,  and  the  largest  of  them,  come  from  the  chain 
which  is  the  immediate  continuation  of  Xien  chen-tang-la. 
The  ice  becomes  thicker  the  more  the  valley  contracts 
and  the  longer  it  is  in  shadow.  We  often  c-oss  it  from 
one  bank  to  the  other,  where  it  forms  a  bridge.  Stags' 
horns  are  set  up  on  a  muni  heap;  where  do  chcy  come 
from?     This   valley  runs  between   the   two   ranges  like  the 


1 


(I 

(V 


tl 


TRAXS-IIIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


Buptsang-tsangpo.     On  this  day  we  never  see  a  man  or  a 

tent.  .  . 

In  the  evening  a  night  owl  again  sat  screeching  atx)ve 
tlie  camp,  and  the  Lachikis  were  convinced  that  it  meant 
to  warn  us  against  robbers.  If  these  knew  that  a  European 
with  European  weapons  was  in  the  caravan  they  would  not 
attack  it;  but  we  were  only  Ladakis,  and  the  Tibetans 
despise  Ladakis  and  look  upon  them  as  cowards. 

On    the    1 8th    we    travelled    southwards    to    the    place 
(15407    feet)   where   our   valley   enters   the    Rukyok   valley, 
running    down    from    the    west-north-west,    at    the    bottom 
of   which   some   of   the   Lunpo-gangri    summits   were   again 
visible      Still    no    men    were    to    be    seen,    only    numerous 
summer    camping-places.     l\vo    horsemen    rode    past    our 
camp   on    the   other,    r-ht,    side   of   the   vo'ley.     What   did 
they    want?     Were    thev   spies?     We   had    every    reason    to 
suspect  a  spv  in  everv  human  being.     No;    they  were  kiang 
hunters   from    (iertse;   who   had   left   their   home   and   were 
seeking    new    dwellings    in    another    province,    because    of 
some    uni.leasantness    with    the    Certse    Pun,    the    potentate 
whom  we  were  carefully  making  away  from.     They  informed 
us   that    we    were   a    dav's   journey    from    Pasa-guk,    where 
I  had  encamped  the  year  before,  and  three  short  marches 
from    Saka-dzong.     It    was    hazardous    to    pass    so    near   a 
governor's    residence.     Abdul     Kerim    Ixjught    one    of    the 
rider's  horses  for  100  rupees. 

This  day  I  put  on  for  the  first  time  a  new  Ladaki 
costume.  The  other  was  too  warm,  and,  being  red,  was 
conspicuous  among  the  others.  The  new  coat  was  made 
of  worn  tattered  sackcloth,  and  was  stained  with  ashes  and 
soot.  In  this  I  looked  just  like  the  other  m.n,^  Now  1 
painted  mv  face  regularlv  everv  day,  and  he  must  be  a  very 
smart  fellow  who  could  find  out  that  I  was  not  a  genuine 
Ladaki.  Wc  had  hitherto  got  on  remarkably  well,  and  had 
onlv  a  dav's  journev  to  a  place  where  I  had  been  the  year 
before.  But  the  nervous  tension  increased  more  and  more, 
and  I  wondered  every  morning  what  surprises  the  new  day 
had  in  store  for  us. 

April   iQ.     As    we    were     starting,    two    men    passed    on 
foot,  driving  before  them    200  ^in.x|.   kuicu   wui;  ban.     v^^= 


w'  ■''cy^Ti/r*''s»'^T"*^ 


.„,..,   KS,,K      ...        MM        SNKN       ri..'>lNO,.  ,.-         M    ^  S      ^M  .  H       V     M  N.  ..    ,    V  K      C  N    '.     1 N 

S.,NVM    Ni.i  i  ill    -    1.-. 'MM,        ;:.-      I  \..i  \  'i -i  fin...    h...    in;;:;    ^^  ;;ii   ::.:  i    :.:j 
lo  1,1, r   -,11    ...)   1.)   nil    l)\s'.i'  v  M'\i-i-.i 

Sk.  u  lua  bv  iIk'  Aulli.)r. 


if 


-ill 


:^^^E 


WT' 


iJ 


M 


fi 


LXVI 


I\   THE    ROBBERS'    PARADISE 


335 


wav  was  the  same  as   theirs   and   wc   had   to   pass   them. 
While  I  drove  our  own  sheep  down  the  road,  Abdul  Kcnm 
stopped  and  talked  with  the  men,  to  draw  off  their  attention. 
But  we  could  sec  that  thev  were  interested  m  our  strange 
party,   and   looked  closely  at   us.     I   limped,   thinking   that 
the  Tibetans  had  never  seen  a  lame  Euroi)ean,  if  they  had 
seen  anv  European  at  all.     But  the  people  had  seen    me  ui 
Pasa-Ruk  and  Saka-dzong  the  year  before,  and  then   1  dul 
not  halt.     I  had  come  off  well  from  our  troul^lesome  neigh- 
bours and  also  past  the  large  yak  caravan,  whir'^    a  couple 
of  davs  ago  had  turned  otT  another  way  but  had  now   come 
into   ours   again.     We   met    a   J-rge   sheep   caravan    wUh   a 
mounted  party;   a  woman  was  said  to  be  the  wife  o.   the 
Gova  of  Rukyok.    The  people  we  had  just  met  were  not 
so  dangerous  as  those  that  followed.  ,    ,     ,  , 

We  left  the  Rukvok  river  farther  and  farther  to  the 
right,  and  di-ectly  to  the  south  appeared  quite  close  the 
loftv  sumn  'lich  rises  alwve  Pasa-guk.  We  had  left  the 
salt-laden  ..cp  and  the  yaks  behind  us,  and  we  came  at 
length  to  the  bank  of  our  old  friend  the  Chaktak-tsangjio, 
which  was  considerably  smaller  than  at  the  end  of  ^/ay  and 
beginning  of  June  the  year  before.  Here  we  left  the  high- 
road to  the  south,  and  marched  northwards  along  the 
Chaktak-tsangpo's  right,  or  we.,tern  bank,  where  we  soon 
encamped  on  a  meadow  (15.203  feet). 

When  Abdul  Kerim  came  V)ack  he  was  very  solemn. 
He  had  had  great  difTicultv  in  answering  questions  why 
we  followed  a  bv\%av  along  the  Chaktak-tsangpo  instead 
of  taking  the  highway  to  Saka-dzong  as  all  other  travellers 
did  He  had  replied'  that  we  were  sent  to  find  out  how 
much  sh-ep's  wool  would  be  for  sale  in  the  country  next 
summer.  Then  the  men  of  the  salt  caravan  had  said: 
"You  cannot  be  afraid  of  robbers;  they  frequent  the  moun- 
tains up  here.     Are  you  well  armed?" 

"Yes   we  have  two  guns  and  some  revolvers." 
"You'  will   want   them.     We   sec   that   you   are   peaceful 
people,    so   we   warn    vou.     Si.x    days    ago   a    robber   band 
eighteen  men  strong,  each  with  his  horse  anrl  gun,  attacked 
a   tent   village   here   in   the   neigh l)ourhood.    They   piljaged 
^  tents,  took  40c  sheep  and  abuut  200  vuks,  anu  n.Oae  ?;•:; 


T         1 

I! 


mm^mj^ 


33^> 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


f) 


"^'^•T;'  .nu^U  ";:"'".»■;.  „o  m"„Vt„.n,,h  ...  .rav^  in 
•',■"'"  1,;.;   V       .r.u..h    llu-   f.Vbi.UWn  land.    As  Ions 

as  thcTc  was  .laylii;  .  ' '^  ■^'^"  ,  ^vj  c  .Irivon  U|,  near  to 
al«,ut  an.l  'f ''^;-;  '  '  !'  „^1''';;.„  c.,..l.l  talk  of  nothinR 
tho  li-nts.     Ill  till-  ninmg  m    mu  himsc-lf,  took 

,,„.„,,,,,.„,     •.■-":j,,  «■'::;,,-;;      ,:';.':.. r„ani.c.l 

sent    a^    a    I>r<)oi    i"  ,         ,    r^  ^^y^^    ,3 

towns    punishment    .s    -p'   ^^'^  \^"  ,^.,";,  Xr  magistrate 
taken  out  an<l  a  hand  cu    of.     "^^ ^;;7;;;,„^otion,  but 

^^•^^"^f'-ile^H    hIsX     s    ,mr:^::i^'l      We    heard    that 
one    who    net^lect^    "^     '"^>    '*  Ra-'a-tsan^o    is 

">^    ^''^'"t  rrc...  h     nc.r..t  n.l,b  ;:    and-is  visiifd   by 
notoru)US  as  a   rci^uiar   ne»i   ^i 

^^t^t^\^^'h^^-  M;:;i:;S;ns  amon.  mv  Ladakis 
n  ith  ^anu   n  el.  lious  hvmn  I  had  f.rst  heard  at  Km\- 

'    lM,r      ''tlhhu    eki)er-'    echoed    amon^    the    rocky    chlTs; 

unkur.  "I"'^'.^  .^^  :-f^.^.^i,.,  in  protecting  true  behevers 
^^"■*        ,         V.-of  the   heathen.''     Thev  had  all  at  once 

'S^.  ^See^Jv^  n^i-    a^'"    ^    the  'robbers'    paradise. 

"Allahu  ekl)er;'  God  is  grt.it.  ^ 

tents"  from    the    north.      Ihe    heid-^ia»    rccmeeu    -.-.u..    .■ 


two  men,  a  woman, 


ti.        1  lie     u-m-r;'"    ■     • ,  .         .. 

and  some  vaks.     They  made  a  circuit 


LXVI 


IN   THE   ROBBERS'    PARADISE 


337 


a.  though  thcv  wcr.  afraid  of  u>.  hut  Abdul  kcnm  ha  l.< 
thim  to  KH't  infnrmati..n  about  the  road       I  h.n  uv  marched 
(,n    dircctlv    ciu.tward^    alon-    the    northern    bank    of     t  he 
Cliaktak  t^n-po.        The     accent     was     very     Kra.lual.     thc 
vallev    fairlv' broad    an<l    with    almndant    pa>ture.     No    tent 
Was  "seen    "but    >ummer    (■anip>    were    numerous.       A     cairn 
marks   the   pkice   where   the   Chaktak  tsan-po    conim-   from 
the  north     io°  W.,  unite>  with  its  tributary  the   Cebuk  chu 
from    the    ea^t.      To    the    north  north  east    rise    two    Miowy 
ncaks  of  medium  lui-ht  witli  small  -laeiers.     It  was  evidert 
that    the    Chaktak  tsan-i.o    Hows    from    the    country    to    the 
north  of  them,  for  the  deeply  excavated  transverse  vahey  of 
the    river   could    be    clearlv   traced.      The    main    river    may 
carrv    down    alK)Ut    2:0   cubic    feet    in    a    second,    and    the 
aftluent    alK.ut     70.       In    this    district    the    river    '^    cal le.l 
Kamchun-chu:       the      name      Chaktak  tsan-po        Charta- 
tvuvM.o     a^    it    is    incorrectlv   called    by    Nam    Sin^')    is    not 
applied  to  it   alK)ve    I'asa-guk.     We  encamped   in  the  an^le 
between  the  two  riviTs  near  a   meadow   where  three  horses 
were     feeding.       Their     owners,     who     were      bivouacking 
behind  a  ])rojection  near  at  hand,  were  from  Rukyok,  and 
had   lost   manv  of   their  sheep   in   winter   from   disease,   and 
had  been  to  a  warm  spring  to  di])  and  save  the  nmainder. 
We   were   here   alxuit    due    north   of   Sakad/.ong   and   about 
two    davs'    journev    from    it.       lUit     between    us    and    the 
Governor's  residence  rose  a  ridge  which  is  a  link  in  the  chain 
of  Lunpo-gangri.     In  the  evening  and   at   night   our  watch 
men  fired,  as  Usual,  some  revolver  shots  to  inform  any  chance 
roblxTS  that  we  were  on  our  guard. 

April  21.  As  the  tents  were  being  taken  down,  our 
neighbours  went  bv  with  200  sheep.  I  turnefl  my  back  to 
them  and  Imsied  'mvsclf  with  loading  a  mule.  'I  hen  I 
travellefl  with  the  shee]),  for  there  were  several  more 
tents  farther  up.  and  I  could  not  ride  till  we  came  to  an 
uninhabited  part  of  the  valley.  Several  side  valleys 
opened  on  the  left,  and  at  their  end-;  could  sometimes 
])e  ^I'en  a  part  of  the  main  crest.  We  know  absolutely 
nothin-'  of  the  countrv  to  the  north  of  it.  but  that  it  canmit 


k'  the   watershed    Ix'tweeii    the   pialia 


is    t-.  1- 


dint.  and  was  shown 


bv  the  Kamchung  transverse  valley. 


p? 


I 


338 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


After  cn,s>in-  thr  river  twice  over  hrulKes  of  porous 
ice  "we  encamped  near  a  ^heepfoM  where  dry  dung  wa> 
olen  ful  Th  ■  last  noma<l>  had  told  us  that  next  day  we 
t,uil  come  to  a  lar.e  tent,  the  property  of  -  .nfluenUal 
old    man    named    Kaml.a    'IVenam,    who   owned    1000    \ak> 

"i;v.%.nd    if    we    slippe.1    past    him    Uk.   --"^xy   wou  d    W 
open   to  us  as  far  a>   Ra^^atasam.     We  are   >ati>fiLd   XNh  n 
i    on    this    <lav.    we    have    a.i^ain    yarned    near  y    9    "I'le. 
Sthl    hein.  -interfered    with       hut     how    sl.a  I    we    Hjre 
to-morrow? -this    is    the    >landiPf^    question    ^^e    ak    our 
elves    every    evening.       It    is    certainly    an    a.lvanta^a-    to 
avel   alon,^   out  of  the-way   paths   where   we   escape   not.  e 
H     if  anv  sharp  ,ova  or  governor  hears  us  spoken  of    he 
cannot    help    be  n-   suspicious   of   our    stran-c    proceedinf,'>, 
^•L^le  a  clo^e  inl.uiry,     Now  the-  >alt  canvvan  wl.d. 
we    passed    has    already    arrived    at    Saka  (l/.ong      ue    are, 
nle    1    to  the  east   of  that   place,   but  w   travel  so  slowly 
hat   .'c     an   never  escape   pursuit.      (^ur  excitement  grows 
;!;;;lv.     I   am   tlr^  and   weary  of  this  -^ ->-P-^f  ^^"^ 
mcnt    and  Ion-  for  it  to  come  to  an  end.     What  shal    sst 
do     hen?      That    1    know    not.      We    have    penetrated    so 
far     hat   a   cri^s   must   come.      I    have   managed   to     ravel 
hrough    Bongba.   but    my   plans   for   the   '---l-^^...  "^^j^j 
are  verv  indefinite  and  depen.l  on  circumstances.     Wc  will 

^rvir.^;.:^  r'^^r^hcn   we   knew   th^   the   definite 
crisis    was    c-ming     very     much     nearer.       Abdul     Kerim, 
Kuichuk,  and  (^aSar  set  out  first  to  pay  a  usit  to  Kamba 
Tsenam    and    keep    his    attention    riveted    on    the    sale  o 
food  an.l  horses.     We  followed  after,  and  crossc.1  the  ri  cr 
twice  on  cracking   bridges  of    ce.  kept  along    J^  J^.^  J^ 
hank,    and   passed    a    side    valley,    at    the    "^-."th   of   ^^hlch 
stood  three  tents,  where  our  men  were  in  the  "^''l^^^  j^^^^ 
of  Tibetans  who  were  showing  their   horses.      Guiana   ha 
warn  c^  me  in  time,  so  I  dismounted  and  went  and  looke 
ft       our    last    mules.      As    soon    as    we    were    concea le 


i)V    a     'ja;:i.    Ui:a5.(. 


, , ,.   T   r-n-'ld   rid.-   n^'ain.     The  pleasure   did 

not\i^''ionr'f;,r  at   the'  next  ;ide\alley  on  the   north   I 
had   to  dismount  again  before  another  tent,   where  a  pack 


\^)it^^W.^,T'*$^ 


LXVI 


IX   THE    RUBBERS'    PARADISE 


3M) 


of   savage    doj^s 


(lot's    were    encountered    hy    Takkar    and    Little 


Pu 


ppy 


who,  save  the  mark,  would  help  to  defend  us, 
l)Ut  received  a  nip  in  the  ntck  and  had  to  Ix'  rescued. 
Here  we  lost  Kutus  and  Tuh^'es,  who  remained  at  the 
tent,  while  our  dimini>iu(l  party  continued  on  its  way 
eastwards. 

At  a  spur  on  the  ncjrthern  side  of  the  valley  a  couple  of 
elegant  inani  heajjs  were  erected,  and  by  one  of  them  a 
streamer  pole  was  set  uj).  It  had  Miowed  thickly  ever  since 
eight  o'clock  tjut  tlie  valley  wa>  >o  narrow  that  we  could 
not  pass  all  the  tents  unseen.  Just  at  the  j)rojecting  point 
a  large  valley  ran  in  from  the  north:  we  only  guessed  at  it, 
for  everything  was  hidden  in  the  snowstorm.  (}ulam 
went  a  little  way  ahead  and  gave  me  the  sign  to  dismount. 
Immediately  in  front  of  the  point  stood  four  tents  and  a  small 
stone  cahin,  where  a  man  stood  watching  us,  and  also  a  chief's 
tent  of  such  huge  dimensions  that  I  never  saw  its  like :  it 
was  as  large  as  a  house.  Here  we  left  Lobsang  and  Abdul 
Rasak,  and  went  on  eastwards  with  a  much  diminished 
I)art\.  The  chief  volume  of  the  Gebukchu  comes  from  the 
northern  valley;  in  our  valley,  which  we  knew  led  to  the 
Gebuk  la,  only  a  brook  was  left.  We  set  up  our  tents  on 
the  terrace  at  the  mouth  of  a  northern  side  valley.  All  the 
country  was  white,  and  not  a  shadow  could  Ix-  seen  of  the 
surroundings. 

Our  three  tents  stood  as  usual  close  together,  mine 
with  its  opening  up  the  valley,  that  is,  eastwards.  After  a 
while  the  men  left  k-hind  came  up  and  gave  their  reports 
in  turn.  They  had  Iwught  provisions  for  two  days,  and 
had  learned  that  the  district  was  called  Gebuk  yung.  The 
ne.xt  day  we  should  go  over  the  Geljuk-la  and  encamp  at 
the  foot  of  the  Kinchen  la,  from  the  top  of  which  we  should 
see  Raga-tasam  the  following  day.  Of  course  it  was  risky 
for  three  parties  of  our  men  to  visit  three  tents  near 
together,  for  the  Tibetans  always  asked  about  the  routes 
we  had  followed  and  our  plans,  and  our  men  might  in  their 
haste  give  discordant  answers.  In  the  large  tent  Lobsang 
had  lx?cn  cross  examined,  and  had  answered  that  we  came 
from  the  Gcrtse  Pun.  wh(j  had  advised  us  to  take  this 
byroad    because    we    should    reach    Raga-tasam    two    days 


'rKAXS-lllMALAVA 


ruAP. 


ft 


J"    »:■ 


sooncT  tlKin  if  we  went  thn-ii-h  Sakad/onK-  "Quitr 
true"  till  TilTtatis  aii^uind,  1  ut  also  wariud  us  against 
rohlMi-s,  for  Ihiitr.n  I.a.lakis  ^^uu\<\  Iv  but  a  mouthlul  tor 
an  ordinary  rotilxr  Land,  and  ihr  cuntry  \va>  viry  inwilc. 
"It  is  wiH'for  von  that  you  have  i^o.-d  weapon^,"  tluy  saul. 

Lastly,  Ali'dul  K.rini  turni<!  uj.  with  his  purchases. 
Ilr  had'liarmd  tiial  all  th>  tmts  ue  had  snn  in  the-  <l;iy 
Indon-'i-d  to  Kaniha  Ts.nam,  uho  lived  himx  It  in  the 
largest,  hut  he  hapixnid  to  If  in  Saka  dzong,  wlure  an 
iisscmh'lv  had  hern  convened  in  antieijiation  of  an  impending 
visit  from  a  hi^h  Chiiusr  oftuial,  and  the  (|uestion  what 
present  should  l')e  made  to  him  had  to  he  decided.  Kamha 
Tsenam  owned  thirty  five  horns,  whiih  were  grazing  l.ey.md 
(lehukla,  and  if  the  rich  nomad  returned  in  the  evening 
we  should  certainly  he  abU'  to  buy  some  from  him. 

"You  say,""  declared  an  elderly  man  in  Kamba  Tsenam  s 
service,  "that  you  are  a  tsoi!,i;pUH  (merchant)  from  I,adak. 
Why  then  do  vou  travel  by  this  dangerous  side  route.-'  Here 
you' can  drivJ  no  trade.  '  How  have  you  found  the  wav.-' 
'Why  have  you  travelled  in  winter?  Why  do  you  a>k  the 
names  of  the  valleys?"'  ,    u.i    * 

"I  have  to  write'  down  all  the  names,"  he  answered,  that 
we  may  hnd  the  way  again  in  summer,  for  I  am  commissioned 
to  make  large  imrchasts  of  wool."  ,     ,   ,    ,         f 

"That  is  well,  you  shall  have  sc-veral  hundred  bales  ot 
sheep's  wool  from  lis.  1  will  give  you  a  guide  in  the  morn- 
in-'-  you  will  pay  him  a  rupee  for  two  days.  Without  him 
you' cannot  find  your  way  over  the  Gebuk-la,  especially  when 
the  ground  is  covered  with  snow." 

Abdul  Kerim  had  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  and 
then  had  come  to  look  for  us.  We  were  sitting  and 
deliberating  when  two  riders  armed  with  guns  came  up  to 
our  tents.'  They  were  close  upon  us  when  they  appeared 
out  of  the  snowstorm.  We  just  managed  to  close  my  tent 
and  fasten  up  Takkar  before  the  entrance.  The  elder  man 
^vas  Abdul  Kerim's  friend  from  the  large  tent,  the  other  the 
youth  who  was  olTered  to  us  as  a  guide.  They  ticd_  up 
their    he)rses    and    went    nonchalantly    into    Abdul    Kerim  s 


..,1  f,,- 


iL-nl.     Here   tnev   .-at   a;;u   ^•.-rij-vw   »•-•.    ..., ,   • - • 

a    large    handseime    white'    horse    for    sale    at    the    price    ot 


r-\ 


Tk\m  iiiN'.   l.\i.\ki   Ml  H.  iiNM    isWi.r    -I'luM.       ;;r.    (  )  \s..  t  ,■,  i  ,  -^us 
I.    l;.,^,u^, ^\k\       ;;j.    l'\Mn..r.iin    ^  \k-i  x',  i  K.  M>    •  .i  •     - 


.\        1111         I'll  KM  S        h 


1  111^         I'l   IM    N  \M-  1  - 


WllM  \N      111         \  L Mil  \- 


Sk.  li  h'  -  liv   til'   Auth'.r. 


dMg^-^M^i^^^ 


■^^- 


IX  VI 


IN   THE   ROHHKKS'    I'ARADISK 


34« 


*i  1  1  u-  rim  lioiiL'ht  it,  wlurrupon  thry 
asked  how  nnuh  m-.iu  >  lu  hu\  nmim  '  •  ,^  ..  ^.^.^j 
was   not    afrai.l   of    ^n^^:   attacks  •     •Yiru.  r       "^  >  ^ 

'^*""^'""  •  1      ,1   .1,..   .iiuition      To  nfusi-   tlir   ^uidr 

a  f.K.t  (Urp,  and  tlu-  path       all  \m         '  I  caravan 

covered  up,  ''^'V*'  'MV;:'";m  n;;;'  u  rl  s  When 
f„r  two  days  and  a  ni.ht  ^'s  ^  "^  '  "'  ^  ,,^.  1,^..  tent 
Kutus  an<l  S.dik  wuU   hark  »'^»'^.^,  ;',,',',,.  .^t  ..ur 

»^'  f^'^^''  ^';"'  ;'  ^T.r  ;.l  L  "  .M  remain  .luiet 
/,s.«,'/>HH  d.<l  not  want  a  ^^^J^  .y,,,,  ,.„,,;,„„ 

:,;!£:;;i:C;on;;ue:;K^^^^^ 

the  men  answered.  ..  before    the 

w,.    1.  ft    this    dant'erous    i  Uiei'    on    April    .,s 

Gel.uk-la.     7'^\'\  '"  ,    ,  ,,,.  ,vas  soon  overta'xen  by 

in  radiant  sunshine;   to  the  north  was  a  ^^<;^5'^:,^^   ;;• 
i;i-,.  K'-l.r    took  for  the  main  rani^e  of  the    1  rans  iimKuava 

ea.,orn  too,  of  which  run.  a     uvjy  -:'V,:,;,:;"'.lc,;;,:  «i 

coming    innn    Die    norii;,    :-      i    •    '* 


.^42 


TRANS  HIMALAYA 


CUM".    lAVl 


the  valky  we  followerl  last  year,  and  which  runs  down  to 
Hasans,  where  1  saw  Muhamed  Isa  for  the  last  time  among 
the  number  of  tlie  livin,i;.  Here  was  the  driver's  tent,  and 
to  e>cai)e  hi-,  company  during,'  the  nij,'ht  we  continued  our 
march  after  the  stranger  had  given  us  instructions  about 
the  wiv  Dur  camp  390  was  situated  in  the  mouth  of  a 
Mnall  v'ailev  on  the  ascent  to  the  Kinchen  la,  where  we  were 
overwhelmed  in  a  terribly  dense  and  violent  snowstorm. 

The  guide,  whf)  had  so  fortunately  appeared  at  the  right 
moment  ,"^1^1(1  ^aid  in  the  presence  of  our  men  that  he  was 
Kaml)a  ' 'T"  -nam's  brother  and  a  great  yak-slayer.  The 
year  bef'  •  •  e  had  seen  in  Saka-fl/.ong  a  Eun;pean  who^e 
caravan  ;ee"er,  a  big  strong  fellow,  had  inspired  respect 
where  r  tie  showed  himself.  But  he  had  died  suddenly  in 
Saka,  ,.  '  liis  comrades  had  digged  a  long  hole  in  the  ground 
where  had  laid  him.     He  thought  it  strange  tiiat  Ladakis, 

who  were   of   the  -ame  faith   as  the  Tilx'tans,  would  travel 
with  and  serve  the  'ated  Europeans 

For  the  future  we  determined  to  o])scrve  yet  greater  caution. 
Two  or  three  Ladalus  should  always  wear  dark  eye-glasses, 
so  that  mine  might  not  seem  so  peculiar.  As  soon  as  we 
could  buy  woollen  material  all  the  men  should  have  new  clothes, 
so  that  i  in  my  rags  would  seem  the  poorest  and  meanest 
of  the  party. 


'J  I:  ,11 


I 


CHAPTER   LXVII 


APRIL    24 

In  these  davs  our  life  was  dismal  and  lonesome,  and  our 
future  uncertain.  We  went  as  in  the  dark,  feelint,'  with 
our  hands  lot  we  should  fall.  Every  day  which  passed 
without  any  untoward  event  came  ujion  me  as  a  complete 
surprise.  \\'e  had  now  only  two  days'  journey  to  Rapa- 
tasam  on  the  great  highway,  where  caravans  and  trawllers 
fare  to  and  fro,  and  Government  officials  are  responsible 
that  no  unauthorized  person  slips  past.  I  was  thoroughly 
sick  of  my  disguise  and  the  constant  uncertainty,  and  longed 
for  a  cri'^is  to  free  me  from  my  emljarrassment.  But  to 
deliver  ourselves,  of  our  own  free  will,  into  the  hands  of 
the  Tibetans  was  out  of  the  question.  They  must  detect 
us  themselves,  and  till  then  the  strain  on  our  nerves  must 
continue. 

April  24  — the  anniversary  of  the  Vci^a's  return  to  Stock- 
holm in  1880 1  At  sunrise  the  whole  country  lay  under  a 
bright  wintry  shroud  of  white  snow.  The  thermometer 
had  fallen  to'  2|°,  Ijut  when  the  sun  mounted  up  the  horses 
steamed,  atid  light  clouds  of  vapour  rose  up  from  the  snow, 
so  that  we  might  have  Ix'cn  riding  through  a  land  of  sol- 
fataras  and  fumaroles.  Our  caravan  animals  struggled 
bravely  up  the  tough  ascent.  Of  sheep  we  had  only  twenty 
left,  and  two  of  them  were  veterans  from  Lumbur-ringmo- 
tso.  Twice  we  thought  that  the  pass.  Kinchen-la,  was  just 
lx:fore  us,  but  new  heights  rose  farther  })ack,  and  we 
worked  our  way  up  hills,  among  which  brooks  run  down 
towards  Basang  and  Saka  dzong,  where  Muhamed  Isa 
sleeps   in   his  mound.     To  the  south-west   (Jhomo-uchong's 

343 


I 


344 


TRAXS-niMALAYA 


CHAP. 


\ 


\\ 


Mimmits  i)rt-srntt(I  a  <,'ranfl  >i,L,'ht.  At  kn,t,'th  \vc  marlc  the 
last  ascent  uj)  to  the  top  of  the  pas^,  where  the  hei<,^ht  is  17.851 
feet  al>ove  sea  level.  At  the  other  sirle  a  river  runs  north- 
cast,  one  of  the  hea(l\vater>  of  the  Ra.u'a-tsan^po.  To  the 
west  thLTe  i-  a  hrilliant  r^])eetaele,  the  summits  of  Lunpo- 
^ani^'ri  ri-inL;  in  sharp  and  sa\a^e  i;eauty  from  a  maze  of 
mountain^  and  ridges,  which  shine  in  li,<,ditir  bluer  shades 
the  more  remote  they  are.  To  the  north  east  we  catch  a 
f;lim])se  of  an  outtyinn  ridge  covered  from  foot  to  cre>l  with 
new-fallen  snow.  The  broad  flat  valley  of  the  Ra<jatsan<rpo 
stretches  ea>lwards  as  far  as  the  eye  can  .see.  In  the  far 
di>tance  to  tlie  ia>t  south-east  a  grand  snowy  crest  shines 
forth,  the  northernmost  of  the  Himalayan  system  (Illustra- 
tion 1Q9). 

We  stayed  a  long  time  at  the  top.  and  I  sketched  a 
pr.norama.  Then  we  followed  the  track  of  the  caravan 
over  the  lower  >lioulder^  of  two  m(>untains,  and  found  our 
camp  i)itched  in  a  valley  with  good  grass  and  a  brook  par- 
tially frozen.  My  tent  looked  towards  its  bank,  and  all 
three  siood  as  usual  in  a  line.  Tin's  day  al-o  hid  passed 
satisfactorily,  but  ail  would  l>e  different  next  day,  for  then 
we  should  come  to  Raga  tasam,  where  we  encamped  last 
year  and  stayed  a  week.  Camp  391  was,  then,  the  last 
where  we  could  still  feel  at  ease,  for  we  had  seen  no  living 
Ixing  all  day  long,  and  had  no  neighlxjurs.  ilcrc,  then, 
we  must  arrange  some  fresh  safeguards. 

We  must  sort  out  from  our  aln  ady  scanty  baggage  all 
articles  that  might  e.xcite  suspicion,  as.  for  example,  the 
small  padded  leather  box  in  which  the  theodv)lite  was 
packed;  for  the  future  it  would  be  rolled  with  its  inner 
wooden  case  in  my  bed.  Further,  the  hypsomcter's 
leather  case  and  the  actinometer,  which  prol)ably  would 
never  be  usi'd  again.  Whatever  was  combusliljle  was  to 
be  thrown  into  the  fire  and  the  rest  buried.  A  couple  of 
rugs  of  camel's  wool  were  also  to  be  discarded. 

To  iKgin  with,  we  must  make  a  change  in  our  housing 
arrangements.  I  was  to  sleep  for  the  last  time  in  my  old 
weather-beaten  tent,  wh  Tc  our  chief.  Abdul  Kerim,  was 
|-,;vr,pj.r(-,»-t]-,    ♦/,    ^;j.t    iiT\    ]-\\^,   pji"-fj'rc    ;ip.d    recep.'e    LTuests.     For 

me    a    compartment    of   about    2    square    yards,    not    larger 


M(^ 


' '  1 


•; ;  (.     Tiiii  1  w-   \\\i\[    \  \k^. 


lLll_y^^'^  ^(.^r.^  v; 


>w»*»r 


lloKl   111        I  M    IN     ,,N      nil      M   \l(.    II. 


i-xvn 


APRIL    24 


345 


th;m  inv  bed,  wa^-  nartitiuiuil  off  in  Abdul  Kirim's  tent. 
This  (rill.  \\lii(h,  wu'ii  the  camp  was  set  uji,  \va>  eiielo^ed 
)n  all  sides.  \va>  henceforth  to  b(  my  prison  lell.  It  was 
like  a  secret  drawer  in  a  bureau,  and  when  it  was  ready  I 
inspected  it  and  found  it  somewhat  narniw  Init  ((imfortal)le. 

Suen  was  my  hairdre»er.  ami  he  had  ju>t  (ompleti'd  his 
bu-iness  when  Abdul  Kerim  looked  in  at  tlu'  tint  (ijienini^  and 
whis[)ere<l  that  four  nun  with  yaks  were  cominL,^  u[)  the  valley 
on  the  road  we  had  ti)  ^'o  down  from  the  Kinclu'n  la.  I 
hurriedly  set  my  dist^'uise  in  order  ami  wound  the  turban 
round  my  head,  while  the  tla])  was  fastened,  and  Takkar 
was  tied  uj)  before  my  tent.  Then  I  looked  thniui^di  the 
peei)hole  in  the  tent  canvas  on  the  side  towards  tlu'  ui)i)er  end 
of  the  valley,  and  saw  eit^ht  men  on  foot  in  dark  blue  and  red 
dresses,  witli  red  scarves  round  their  heads,  all  armed  with  .nuns 
and  swords,  and  leading  nine  horses;  one  man  led  two  laden 
horses.  What  in  the  world  did  this  mean?  They  nere  not 
robbers,  for  they  come  suddenly  and  at  nij^ht.  They  seemed 
rather  men  in  (Jovernment  service;  the  two  in  front  were  cer- 
tainly ofl'icials.  My  men  occupied  themselves  at  their  fire; 
I  could  see  that  they  were  a  prey  to  the  L,'reatest  un- 
easiness. 

The  .strangers  came  straii^'ht  to  our  cam])-fire  as  if  it 
were  the  end  of  their  journey.  Tliey  formed  a  circle 
round  Abdul  Kerim,  Lobsanj^,  Kutus,  and  (lulim,  and 
began  an  animated  but  .subdued  conversation.  Three  of 
them,  evidently  servants,  led  the  horses  to  a  s])ot  barely  thirty 
paces  from  my  tent  and  rii^^ht  in  front  of  it.  Tliere  they 
to(jk  oil  all  the  saddles  and  loads,  sent  off  the  hor.ses  to  graze, 
brought  out  pots  and  cans,  arranged  three  stones  in  order, 
collected  fuel,  made  a  fire,  fetched  water  in  a  large  pot,  and 
cooked  tea.  It  was  plain  that  they  intended  to  camp  here 
for  the  night,  and  that  they  had  intruded  on  us  for  the  pur- 
pose of  watching  us. 

The  other  five  entered  .Mxlul  Kerim's  tent,  threw 
themselves  down,  and  continued  the  conversation  in  the 
same  low  (|uiet  voice  and  in  thoroughly  polite  and  measured 
tones.  I  could  not  catch  what  they  said,  but  that  the  affair 
was  serious  I  could  c^-nlv  to.'>.  ohdnly  pcrjeive,  ffir  T  he.'ird 
my  name  mentioned  —  Hedin  Sahib.    After  a  good   hour's 


j4^J 


'IKAXS-HIMALAVA 


rnxp. 


1 


M 


'  Jv 


ronvcrsition  they  went  out  :i<,'ain  and  made  a  tour  round 
niv  tent,  but  the  furious  Takkar  would  not  l-'t  thcin 
approach  the  door.  But  ihi'V  (Hscowu'd  the  peephole  in 
the  side  of  the  tent,  and  a  man  put  liis  fin.ucr  in  and  looked 
throuf^di  the  hole,  but  I  was  lyin.t,'  af,'ainst  the  folds  of  the 
tent  on  the  same  side,  so  he  could  not  see  me.  'I'lu'n  they  went 
and  threw  themselves  down  in  a  circle  rouml  the  fire,  brought 
out  their  wcjoden  cups,  and  drank  tea.  They  sat  ri^ht  in  front 
of  the  entrance  to  my  tent,  and  I  could  not  t,'et  cjut  withcnit 
bein^  seen. 

Then  Abdul  Kerim  whisi)ered  from  the  back  of  my 
tent  and  inside  his  own,  and  told  me  what  the  men  had  .said. 
The  leader,  a  .stoutish  yount;  man  of  good  appearance,^  had 
put  the  usual  (juestions  and  received  the  usual  answers.  I'hen 
he  Had  uttered  the  following  words  in  a  serious  and  decided 

tone : 

•'News  of  vour  arrival  has  come  to  the  (iovernor  of 
Saka-d/.ong  through  two  salt  caravans  which  passed  your 
party  above  Pasa-guk.  As  it  has  never  occurred  that  a 
merchant  fr  .m  Ladak  has  come  from  the  north  and  has 
travelled  on  the  byway  through  (iebuk,  the  (Governor  and 
the  other  authorities  in  Saka  .susi)ecled  that  Iledin  Sahib 
might  be  concealed  among  you,  and  the  more  so  because 
he^himself  exjiressed  his  wish  last  year  tc)  come  back  again 
and  travel  through  the  mountainous  regions  in  the  north. 
Therefor"  my  comrades  and  I  received  orders  to  follow 
vour  trail,  overtake  you,  and  subject  you  to  the  mcjst 
searching  examination.  We  are  in  no  hurry,  and  in_  the 
morning  we  shall  get  several  yak-loads  of  provisions. 
You  protest  that  Hedin  Sahib  is  not  among  you  disguised 
as  a  Ladiiki.  Well,  it  may  be  that  you  are  telling  the 
truth.  But  remember.  tsoiigpiiH,  that  we  shall  carry 
out  our  orders  to  the  letter.  You  are  tlurteen  men  from 
Ladak,  vou  sav,  and  I  can  see  only  ten.  Wliere  are  the 
others?"' 

"Thev  are  out  collecting  fuel." 

"Good.  When  you  aie  all  assembled  here  we  intend 
to  search  you  down  to  the  skin.  Then  we  shall  turn  out 
all  your  baggage  and  empty  every  sack  we  luul  in  )uur  lents. 
And    if    in   this   examination    wj   tmd    nothing    belonging  to 


lAVlI 


Ai'KIL    .'4 


.w/ 


a  Kiiropcan,  it  will  remain  for  you  to  ^ivo  a  writtrn  (lotlara- 
lion  that  no  Kuropcan  is  among  your  i)arty  concealed  or 
disguised,  and  under  tliis  deilaration  you  must  set  your  name- 
stamp.  Then  you  ran  travel  early  in  the  morning  where  you 
like,  and  we  shall  return  to  Saka." 

When  I  heard  this  report  the  situation  became  cjuite 
clear  to  me,  and  I  at  once  decided  what  I  would  do.  Hut 
tlr.st  I  crept  by  the  secret  way  into  the  caravan  leader's 
tent,  where  I  found  myself  surrounded  by  my  retainers, 
except  three,  who  were  to  warn  us  if  the  Tibetans  came 
back  again. 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  I  a.sked  Alxlul  Kerim. 

"The  Sahib  knows  best  him.self.  .■Xs  far  as  I  can  see. 
our  condition  is  hopeless,"  answered  the  honest  man,  who 
had  got  us  out  of  many  a  scrape  before. 

"What  does  Lobsang  think?" 

"It  would  not  be  wise  to  give  them  .such  a  declaration,'' 
he  answered  with  a  very  troubled  face. 

"Sahib,"  suggested  Kutus,  "if  they  give  us  breathing- 
time  'ill  night,  the  Sahib  and  I  can  hide  among  the 
mountains  as  at  the  time  when  we  were  close  to  Tsongpun 
Tashi.  When  the  search  is  over  we  can  rejoin  the  caravan 
farther  down.  I  can  carry  tne  Sahib's  papers,  and  other 
European  articles  can  be  buried  in  the  ground  under  the 
tent." 

"They  know  that  we  are  thirteen,"  remarked  Gulam. 

Under  the  force  of  circumstances  we  had  made  our 
way  right  across  Tibet  with  a  trumped-up  story,  but  to  let 
Abdul  Kerim  confirm  a  false  document  with  his  name- 
stamp  on  my  account  was  a  little  too  strong  even  for  ly 
geographical  conscience.  I  could  not  consent  to  that. 
Whatever  might  happen,  f)ur  po.sition  was  still  a  strong 
one.  We  were  in  the  heart  of  Tibet.  The  next  move 
would  be  that  we  should  be  sent  out  of  the  country,  and 
by  whatever  way  we  were  obliged  to  go,  I  sh(juld  certainly 
gain  something  more.  I  would  a1)solutely  refuse  to  go  to 
Ladak,  but  I  would  be  content  to  g(j  to  India  through  Nepal, 
or,  b-ctter  still,  through  Gyangtsc. 

"Xo,"  I  said  to  my  men  as  I  rose  up,  "I  shall  give  myself 
up  to  the  Tibetans." 


,U'S 


'JR.WS  IIIMAL.WA 


I 


W- 


'I'hcn  they  witc  all  amazed,  and  Iic^mh  to  cry  and  ^i>\) 
like  ( liildnn. 

"Why  do  you  wccpi'"  i  a-krd. 

"W'f  >!iall  part  licrc  t'or  ;,'ood,  and  the  Saliih  will  he  killed," 
they  ans\vere(|. 

'"Oh  no,  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that,"  I  said,  for  it  was  not 
the  {]]■>[  time  I  had  lieen   fau.!,'ht  hv  Tibetans. 

When  I  walked  out  of  tlu'  tenl  I  heard  behind  me  the 
murmur  of  Mohammedan  prayers:  "Allahu  ekber  —  His- 
miilah   rahman   errahim." 

In  my  u>ual  di-^L^uist'  from  to])  to  toe.  and  with  my  face 
painted  l)la(  k.  I  walked  with  slow,  deliberate  stejjs  straight 
to  the  circle  of  Tibetans.  When  I  was  close  to  them  they 
all  ro>e  up.  as  if  tlu'y  knew  that  I  was  no  ordinarv  Ladaki. 

"Sit  down,"  I  said,  with  a  dignified  gesture  of  invita- 
tion, and  sat  down  my-rlf  between  the  two  principal  men. 
In  the  one  on  my  riu'lu  hand  I  nco^ni/eil  at  once  the 
Pcmba  Tserin<f  of  the  year  bef.n-e.  I  clai)])e(l  him  on 
the  shoulder,  sayinLi,  ''I->o  vou  know  me  auain,  Pemba 
Tserint,'?"  He  answered  lot  a  word,  but  looked  with 
wide-oi)ened  eyes  at  his  comradi's,  and  nodded  towards  me, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "It  is  he."  They  were  mi,t,fhlily  dumb- 
founded and  disconcerted:  no  one  spoke,  some  looked  at 
one  another,  others  j.,'a/ed  into  tlu'  lire,  one  threw  a  couple 
of  sticks  amon.i^^  the  ,^tones,  and  another  took  small  sijjs  oi 
tea. 

Then  I  spoke  aj^'ain:  "Ves,  truly,  Pemba  T.sering, 
you  are  (|uite  riijht ;  I  am  Iledin  Sahib,  who  visited  Saka- 
dzont;  last  year.  Here  you  have  me  attain;  what  do  you 
mean  to  do  with  me?" 

Abdul  Kerim,  Lobsant:;,  and  Kutus  stood  behind, 
trembling  like  as[ien  leaves,  and  ex])ccting  that  preparation.s 
for  an  execution  would  be  the  ne.xt  move. 

Still  they  made  no  answer,  l)Ut  bej^an  to  whisper 
together  in  groups.  The  younger  otlicial,  who  was 
evidently  the  cock  of  the  walk,  for  the  others  looked  at  him 
and     waited     for    him    to    sju-ak.    Ixgan    to    look    through 

I      '  1*11  I'll  1  •  •! 

ills  jiajicrs,  aini  j>icKCu  oiu  (mi  wnicii  nc  rcau  in  .siicnci  . 
.\s  they  \\\rv  so  long  in  recovering  from  thi'ir  consternation 
—  for  thty  had  not  exjiected  to  get  hold  of  me  so  ea.sily  — 


'Mr' 


PC* 


f.'—i 


ll» 


1 


I.W  II 


APRIL    -M 


349 


1  sent  Kutus  fo*-  II  lx)\  of  Ktryptiaii  ci^^art'tti's,  and  ontn-tl 
tin-Ill  all  rnuiid.  Mai  h  took  oiu'  with  thanks,  and  lii^'htoi 
it  alter  I  had  sit  an  cxanii)!!'  and  sliowi'd  thtin  that  tin-  iiK'tr- 
ctti'S  were  not  lillrd  with  ;,'un|)owdi  r.  'i'hcn  the  i(r  was 
lirokiti,  and  tho  li'.idcr  In-.^an  to  .inak  very  soltly  and  with- 
out lookini,'  at  ine. 

"Wstirday  strict  ordrrs  canu'  from  the  Dfva^hun^; 
tliat  the  (jovernor  of  Saka  would  Ix-  held  re>])on-il)le  for 
Kur()|)eans  who  mi,i,'!it  sneak  into  the  country  from  the 
west,  and  if  any  Kuropean  showed  himself  he  must  he 
immediately  forced  to  return  by  thi-  way  he  came.  When 
the  rei)ort  reached  Saka  of  a  caravan  two  days'  journey 
oiT,  the  (iovernor  suspected  that  it  mii^'ht  Ix-  you,  Hedin 
Sahib,  and  we  have  now  accomplishid  our  task.  In  the 
(lovernor's  name  we  forbid  you  to  take  anotiUT  step 
eastwards.  We  bej,'  you  to  conform  in  all  thin,t,'s  to  our 
directions;  our  heads  and  your  personal  safety  are  at 
stake.  To-morrow  you  will  follow  us  over  the  Kinchcndu 
to   Saka-d/.oii^." 

"I  said  last  year  that  I  must  and  would  see  the 
mountain  region  north  of  Saka.  Xow  I  havi-  seen  it,  and 
y(ju  have  not  been  able  U)  prevent  me.  Vou  see  then  that 
I  can  do  more  in  vour  country  tlian  your.selves.  Xow  I 
intend  to  travel  back  U)  India,  but  by  which  way  only  Lien 
Darin,  .\mban  of  Lhasa,  shall  decide.  It  is  therefore  my 
intention  to  write  to  him,  and  1  shall  n<jt  j^o  anywhere  before 
his  answer  comes." 

"Wc  do  not  wish  you  to  travel  by  any  other  way  than  the 
one  you  choose,  but  we  have  no  authority  t(j  forward  a  letter 
to  Lha.sa;  the  Governor  will  decide  the  (|uestion  himself. 
It  is  with  him  you  must  treat;  you  must  meet  b.im  personally. 
Therefore  we  will  accompany  you  to-morrow  to  Saka- 
dzong." 

"Xo,  sir,  anywhere  else  you  please,  but  not  to  Saka- 
dzong.  You  know  that  my  caravan  leader  died  and  lies 
buried  there.  It  is  against  my  jmnciples  to  visit  a  place 
where  I  have  buried  a  faithful  servant.  You  shall  never 
get  me  to  Saka-dzong  even  if  you  rai.se  all  Tibet." 

■"If  it  would  trouble  _\ou  U)  .see  Sak.-d7.ong  agam,  we 
will  certainly  not  urge  you  to  go  thither.     Will  you  instead 


<■ 


35© 


'IRA.NS  HIM  \I. AN  A 


I 

ft 


liavi'  the  kindness  to  fullow   ti,  to  SciiKiku   Iiv  the  Ts;in^(», 
on  till'  IdsiiDi,  \vlii(  li  i.-,  only  two  days'  journt-v  to  tlic  soutli 
west.''     I    will   then    write   to   the   (ioveruor  and   ask   him   to 
mci't  you  there." 

"(io'xi;    I  will  fdllow  you  to  Semoku  to-morrow" 

"I  hanks;  1  will  at  ont  e  send  an  txpress  niesscn^cr  to 
inform  the  (loxcrno'-,  so  that  you  may  not  have  to  wait  at 
Semoku.  Hut  tell  me  why  you  ha\c  (ome  hack  aj,'ain. 
\'ou  travel  and  travil  in  Tihet  and  you  are  always  sent  awav, 
hut  always  come  hack  aj^ain.  Had  you  not  enough 
last  yi'ar,  when  you  were  ohli^ed  to  leave  the  country 
by  the  road  to  l.adaki'  .\nd  now  you  turn  up  aj.;ain 
amon^,'  us.  How  is  that  possible,  and  why  are  vou 
come:-'" 

"  ikrause  I  love  your  country  and  your  friendly  people 
to  su(  h  a  decree  that  I  cannot  live  widiout  them." 

"H'm!  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so.  but  would  it  not 
be  better  if  you  were  to  love  your  own  country  a  little  more? 
As  \imtr  as  we  do  not  travel  in  your  country,  you  should  not 
travel  in  ours;  we  remain  at  home,  and  the  best  thinj^  you 
can  do  is  to  remain  in  your  (ountry." 

"As  long  as  I  can  sit  in  a  saddle  I  shall  come  back.  Vou 
can  inform  the  Devashung  at  your  leisure  that  their  Excellen- 
cies may  look  for  more  visits." 

They  lau;,'Iied  i)lea.santly.  and  '  joked  at  one  another,  as 
much  as  to  say:  "If  he  likes  to  come  back,  he  is  welcome 
as  far  as  we  are  concerned."  And  my  Ladakis  laughed 
and  were  extremely  a.stonished  that  our  last  day  of  freedom 
had  come  to  so  peaceful  ancl  merry  an  ending.  The 
Tibetans  were  exceedingly  agreealjle.  polite,  and  gentle, 
and  never  uttered  a  hard  or  peevish  W(;rd  aijout  the  trouble 
that  I  had  again  brought  upon  them.  And  wlien  tiie  old 
wool  story,  which  Alxlul  Kerim  a  little  while  before  had 
tried  to  cram  down  their  throats,  was  referred  to,  they 
laughed  heartily  and  thought  that  it  was  a  grand  device. 
They  are  so  accustomed  to  lie  them.selves  that  tliey  have  a 
great  admiration  for  any  one  else  who  succeeds  in  deceiving 
them.  They  thought  it  very  wonderful  that  we  had  been 
Uijie  lu  civ/ss  ti;e  Wiiuic  cuuiury  v.  unoui  licicction,  and 
believefl    that    I    must   possess   some    mysterious   powers   of 


• 


» 


'I 


!  it 


t  = 


ft 


1 


.^1^ 


.1*1 


LXVII 


APRIL    24 


351 


which  they  knew  nothiri}:;,  and  that  they  must  be  very 
cautious  in  dealing  with  me. 

The  3'oung  official,  who  was  named  Rinchc  Dorchc,  but 
was  called  Rindor,  a  contraction  of  the  two  names,  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  the  Governor  of  Saka,  saying  that  I  was  the 
same  Hedin  Sahib  who  had  been  here  the  year  before,  that 
we  had  come  to  a  friendly  agreement  to  proceed  t(i  Semoku, 
that  I  did  not  wish  to  travel  to  Ladak  but  straight  to  India, 
and  that  Lien  Darin  alone  was  to  decide  on  the  route.  The 
letter  was  sealed,  and  despatched  by  a  mounted  courier  over 
the  Kinchen-la. 

Then  we  talked  and  jested  again,  and  before  sunset  we 
were  as  intimate  as  though  we  had  been  friends  from  child- 
hood. We  might  have  made  an  ai)i)ointment  to  meet  in 
this  barren  valley  and  been  glad  to  have  found  one  another. 
It  was  easy  to  understand  that  the  Tibetans  were  pleased. 
They  little  thought  when  the  sun  rose  that  they  would  make 
such  a  good  catch  before  evening.  The  successful  issue 
of  their  mission  would  be  of  great  advantage;  they  would 
be  commended  by  the  Governor  and  gain  promotion. 
For  my  part  I  had  a  feeling  of  unmixed  satisfaction.  Our 
freedom  was  at  an  end,  but  for  me  it  had  been  nothing  but 
an  exceedingly  enervating  captivity.  Now,  for  the  first 
time,  I  felt  perfectly  free,  and  was  no  longer  a  prisoner  in 
my  own  tent;  I  should  have  no  need  of  that  wretched 
hiding-hole  in  Abdul  Kerim's  tent.  The  Tibetans  laughed 
loudly  at  my  ragged,  smutty,  greasy  dress  of  coar.«?  grey 
sackcloth,  in  which  I  looked  like  a  convict,  or.  at  besi,  like 
a  begging  monk  of  the  Grey  Friars'  confraternity.  Then 
they  understood  how  I  had  succeeded  in  crossing  Bongba 
unseen  and  unknown.  How  delightful  it  would  be  to 
throw  my  rags  into  the  fire  and  clothe  myself  in  a  clean  neat 
Tibetan  costume,  to  be  no  longer  obliged  to  hide  my 
pa])ers  and  instruments  in  rice  sacks,  and  not  to  have  to 
paint  my  face  black  as  a  Moor's  instead  of  washing  myself. 
As  soon  as  we  had  parted  from  our  new  friends  in  the 
evening,  Gulam  took  a  hand-basin  of  warm  water  into  my 
tent,  and  then  I  had  a  good  scrubbing  from  top  to  toe,  and 
the  water  showed  that  I  wanted  it.  He  had  to  change  the 
water    lour    times    before    I    was    tolerably    clean.     Then    I 


>i-..»  s:*C'i 


-  ■  •"<■  ,t  ■ 


fV^i^ 


Jr:'?-«;     i'\#.- 


-TP-i-      <--<ft-' 


ii 


>t  ,-s.^. 


;■'  -  '-o-^. 


i  i 


352 


TRA.\S-in  MALAYA 


CHAP.  lAVII 


dipped  my  Mohammfdan  Ix'ard  to  tlio  skin,  and  sadly 
missed  the  razors  I  had  thrown  away.  IJut  I  was  ,ti;la(l  that 
we  had  ncjt  burned  the  thin,i^>  we  liad  condemned  some  hours 
carUer. 

Rindor  be.^t^ed  the  loan  of  one  of  our  tents,  as  their  own 
transport  train  was  not  e.xpected  till   the  mornini,'.     Besides 


Pemba   Tserin''. 


there    were   two   other    men    1    iuid    known 


the  year  before.  They  were  all  very  friendly,  and  .said  that 
we  had  tipi)ed  them  very  .generously.  There  was  also 
u  wrinkled  old  man  in  the  party,  who  was  always  smokint^' 
a  Chinese  pipe.  His  name  w;;s  Kamba  Tsenam.  and  it 
was  his  tent  near  which  we  had  so  nearly  been  detained  two 
(lavs  before. 

'Thus  ended  Aj)ril  24.  190^-  Stran.i^e,  melancholy 
thou,^tns  took  i)ossession  of  me  whin  I  went  to  bed.  The 
TibeUins  had  again  thwarted  my  plans  —  I  know  not  how 
many  times  they  had  done  so.  Our  future  was  dark  as 
ever,  but  it  had  arrived  at  a  new  staj^'e,  and  on  the  25th  we 
should  wake  up  to  l)et^in  a  new  chapter.  The  dec j)  silence 
in  the  vallev  was  only  disturbed  occasionally  by  Takkar, 
when  the  faithful  dog  barked  at  the  Tibetans.  His  bark 
was  re-echoed  from  both  ilanks  as  thou.gh  three  do<,rs  kej)! 
guard  over  us.  And  the  everlasting  stars  glittered  as  before 
over  our  lonelv  tents. 


>'i' 


CHAPTER  LXVIII 

HIS  EXCEI.I.F.NTY  THE  GOVERNOR   OF   SAKA 

Ox  April  25  v.c  rode  in  a  compact  body  to  tlic  mouth  of  a 
valley  cast  of  Chomo-uchon^',  called  Raflak.  Six  Tibetans 
tjuarded  me  on  1x)th  side>.  and  our  journey  had  some 
resemblance  to  a  convict  train.  Now  I  was  not  oblif,'ed  to 
dismount  before  we  passed  a  tent.  On  the  left  hand  was 
a  lar^e  open  i)Iain  where  Raga-tasam  is  situated.  A  shot 
was  heard  in  *he  deserted  country,  and  Kindor  sent  two 
men  to  see  what  it  was.  An  antelope  hunter!  He  was 
arrested  and  beaten;  for  the  (iovernment.  at  ecclesiastical 
instigation,  had  forbidden  the  extinction  of  life  for  three 
years,  exce|)t  in  the  case  of  sheep  and  yaks.  I  was  reminded 
of  the  agreement  to  forbid  Europeans  to  travel  in  Tibet  for 
three  vears. 

Now  I  drew  my  map  of  the  route,  took  compass  bearings, 
and  sketched  a  panorama  c|uite  at  my  ease.  The  Tibetans 
wondered  at  me  and  (jucstioned  me.  but  did  not  trouble 
themsehes  much  alxnit  my  work.  .\nd  I  had  plenty  of 
time  to  think  of  the  line  of  policy  I  should  adopt  during 
the  following  negotiations.  I  knew  that  they  would  urge 
me  to  return  by  the  way  I  had  come,  through  Bongba,  or 
by  the  road  I  had  taken  "to  Ladak  the  year  before.  For 
niy  part,  I  had  now  had  enough  of  Tib'  and  I  longed  to 
get  home,  and  wished  to  avoid  routes  that  involved  loss  of 
time  and  that  I  knew  already.  Xow  T  only  wished  to 
travel  to  India  via  Shigatse  and  Oyangtse,  and  I  would 
try  to  obtain  ijermi>--ion  to  travel  to  these  towns  by  roads 
where  no  one  had  Ixcn  before,  .\fter  the  excitement  in 
which  we  had  lived  so  long  came  a  reaction.     I  was  worn- 

vo: .  II  353  =  ^ 


i\ 


1.1 


m^m^ 


3S4 


TRAXS-HI  MALAYA 


i    I 


* 


I. 


» 


I    'if 


^  .^Ih 


out,  weary,  and  indifTcrcnt  to  everything  except  the  nearest 
way  home.  Therefore  I  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  of 
fifteen  paj^'es  to  iJen  Darin,  referred  to  his  friendly  letter 
sent  to  (jartok,  gave  an  account  of  our  last  journey,  pointed 
out  to  him  that  no  Great  Power  could  take  it  amiss  if  I 
travelled  out  of  the  country  through  (iyangtse,  promised 
that  in  return  I  would  give  him  information  al:K)Ut  the 
occurrences  of  gold  and  salt  I  had  seen,  and  about  the 
measures  which  should  Ix-  taken  for  the  promotion  of 
sheep-breeding,  —  all  natural  resources,  which  would  con- 
tribute to  the  advancement  of  China's  newest  province, 
Tibet.  And  I  concluded  my  letter  with  wishes  for  the 
happiness  and  prosperity  of  Lien  Darin  himself  and  peace  to 
his  forefathers'  graves. 

I  did  not  doubt  a  moment  that  he  would  give  his  con- 
sent to  such  a  modest  retjuest,  and  I  saw  in  my  mind's  eye 
the  dramatic  scene  when  I  should  make  my  first  call  on 
Major  O'Connor  in  Tibetan  dress,  and  have  a  little  fun 
with  him  before  I  made  myself  known.  But  I  may  as  well 
say  at  once  that  this  long  ei)istle  to  Lien  Darin  was  never 
sent.  My  opponent's  tactics  lured  me  to  a  contest  in 
which  he  was  checkmated  in  two  moves.  My  merit  was 
as  little  now  as  formerly;  I  was  always  a  marionette,  and 
the  hands  which  held  the  strings  hung  over  the  paths 
where  the  clouds  and  stars  move. 

In  the  evening  I  had  a  visit  from  Pcmba  Tsering  and 
Kamba  Tsenam.  The  former  was  much  more  gentle  and 
friendly  than  the  year  before ;  the  latter  was  a  great 
humorist,  who  did  not  seem  at  all  annoyed  that  he  had 
omitted  to  close  the  bag  when  he  had  us  in  it,  and  had  let 
a  valuable  booty  fall  into  the  hands  of  another.  They  had 
heard  of  my  adventurous  voyages  on  Tso-mavang,  and  were 
astonished  that  I  had  escaped  with  my  life. 

Two  short  days'  marches  took  us  over  the  pass  Kule- 
la  and  down  to  the  valley  where  Semoku  stands  on  the 
great  high-road.  Here  stood  some  scattered  tents,  and  the 
Governor  and  his  colleagues  had  established  themselves  in 
the  small  stone  house  of  the  station.  All  the  more  im- 
l>oiUini  p()>l^  ill  Tibet  are  eiilrusled  to  Iwii  gentlemen, 
thus,  for  example,  there  are  always  two  garpuns  or  viceroys 


;il.       I\M  K    CiM  ki     111     M  1  ll'LK. 


;  ,,.,         I  I.  .Kl    III        I   -I    1  S      \Sli     \i.  W    \M.    1  IN      III  .K-^l  r.  \<    k. 


^^^^'^^■m^^^  "^^^.  :.^w^:'''''mm.-j^^^-^^m-^^ 


IWllI 


THE   GOVERXOR   OF   SAKA 


355 


in  Gartok,  a  system  adopt.,!  with  the  intention  that  one 
shall  control  the  other  or  >liall  inform  of  the  other  if  he  is 
guilty  of  any  roguery.  In  Saka-d/.ong.  however,  the  one 
governor  seemed  to  be  of  higher  rank  than  the  other:  at 
any  rate,  he  conducted  all  the  negotiations  as  though  he 
possessed  greater  authority. 

As  soon  as  we  were  ready  Rindor  and  two  other  men 
came  into  my  tent  and  brought  a  nies>age  from  the 
Governor  that  he  awaited  me  in  the  station-house.  I 
answered,  that  if  he  wanted  anything  of  me  he  might  come 
to  my  tent.  It  was  not  long  before  a  party  of  men  crossed 
the  hundred  yards  Ix'tween  our  dwellings.  I  went  out  to 
meet  them,  invited  them  to  come  in  and  sit  down  as  far  as 
the  space  allowed,  took  up  my  position  on  my  bed,  and  had 
before  me  three  gentlemen,  namely,  Dorche  Tsuen,  pun  or 
Governor  of  Saka-dzong  (Illustration  327),  Xgavang,  his 
colleague,  and  Gang  Gyc,  his  eighteen-year-old  son  (Illus- 
tration 331).  A  crowd  of  servants,  nomads,  and  soldiers 
crowded  together  at  the  tent  door. 

Pun  Dorche  Tsuen  is  an  unusually  tall  Tilx-tan,  forty- 
three  years  old,  of  sympathetic  and  refined  appearance, 
dressed  in  a  Chinese  costume  of  silk,  with  a  small  silk  cap  on 
his  head,  a  pigtail  behind,  and  velvet  boots.  He  is  a  man 
of  wealth,  owning  large  Hocks  in  the  ])rovince  over  which 
he  rules  and  a  stone  house-  in  Lhasa,  his  home,  for  he  is  an 
upa  or  domiciled  inhabitant  of  the  province  U,  the  capital 
of  which  is  Lhasa.  There  dwell  three  of  his  four  sons,  and 
one  of  them  is  a  young  lama.     His  wife  has  been  dead  some 

years. 

Ngavang,  his  coadjutor,  is  a  little,  fat.  kindly  man  in 
Tibetan  costume,  but  with  a  Chinese  cap  and  pigtail. 
Gang  Gye  wears  his  hair  in  Tibetan  fashion,  wears  no 
head-covering,  and,  like  his  father,  is  exceedingly  sympathetic 
and  good-natured. 

"I  hope  that  you  have  had  a  successful  journey 
and    have    not    suffered    much    from    cold,"    said    Dorche 

Tsuen. 

"Oh,  it  was  cold,  and  wt  have  lost  our  caravan,  our 

tiotnes  are  m  rags,  una  uur  })roM-5ons  .>.^^  ...  ....  .  — ,  — - 

you  see,  that  is  of  no  consequence  to  us." 


.;  J 


() 


rRANS-IlIMALAVA 


rn  \p. 


I 'I 


['t 


"At  the  time  of  your  vi-it  to  Sakad/ont,'  la-t  yiar  I 
\va>  in  'r>onk<i,  hut  I  rcc civt,*!  an  account  of  }i)Ur  niovi-- 
nirnt>.     Vou    wltc   sint    away.     Why   liavc    you    come   back 

a^ain?" 

"To  vi>it  the  (listrict>  I  was  then  pivvintcd  froni 
M■t■in,^^  I  am  a>hami(l  to  liavc  ^'iwn  you  the  troul^Ie  of 
((jminj,'  here  from  Saka-d/on^.  I  liope  that  we  >liall  soon 
come  to  an  a.L^reement  aljoul  the  route  1  am  to  lake  in  (jrder 
to  leave  the  country." 

Now    I    sliould"  have    to    j^lay    my    cards    well.      I    had 
changed  mv  mind  during'  the  la>t   few  days.      I  had  rested, 
the    reaction   after   the    excitement    of   travellinf;   in    disjgui.sc 
had  pa^ed  away,  and    I   was  exceedin-^ly  eai^er  to  attempt 
some  new  discoveries  before   I  gave       >  the  game.      I  had, 
it    is   true,    succeeded    in    making   a    \ery    valuable    traverse 
acrovs  Hongba,  I  had  travelK'd  straight  across  the  word  "  L'n- 
cxjilored"  on  the  latent   Knglish  maj)  of  Tibet  —  yea.  1  had 
pas>ed  between  the  />  and  /.  m)  that  "unexp"'  lay  on  the  wot 
side  of  my  route  and  "lored"  on  the  east  (see  Ma])  i.  Vol.  I). 
But   I   had   left    (juite   untouched  {wa  extensive  stretches  of 
the  large  blank  i)atch,  and  I  dreamed  of  nothing  else  thaii  t<J 
cross  Hongija  again  by  two  fre>h  routes.     It  would  certainly 
take  four  or  five  months  to  return  to  India  after  a  northerly 
zigzag  course,    instead   of  a   c()U|>le  of  weeks  if  I  made  for 
British   territory   through    (iyangtse.   as   I    intended   at    first. 
But  if  I  succeeded  in  making  the  northerly  detour  I  should 
carrv  home  material  of  pirhaps  greater  value  than  the  dis- 
coveries already   made.     Dorche  Tsueii  answered  with  lirm 
decision : 

••.\s  to  vour  way  back.  I  will  tell  you  at  once:  not  a 
step  further  east ;  my  head  dei)ends  on  it.  Here  you  see 
the  order  I  received  a  couple  of  days  ago  from  the 
Devasliung.  I  will  read  it  to  you.  Last  year  you 
travelled  without  leave  to  Nepal,  to  Kubi-gangri,  across 
the  holy  lake,  round  Kang-rinpoche,  and  to  Jumba  matsen. 
I  know'  exactly  where  you  went.  Vou  canni_)t  do  the  same 
this  year.  It  is  probably  in  consequence  of  your  journey 
in.  ail  sorts  of  forbidden  directions  that  the  Devashung 
has  distributed  through  the  country  instructions  regarding 
Kuroi)eans.      Two    otVicials    lune    recently   been  sent   from 


I  Win 


THE   GOVERNOR   OF   SAKA 


357 


Lhasa  to  Shansa-dznni,'  to  see  that  no  Euroju-an  approacht-s 
the  holy  city  from  >s'akt>an^.  Sonu'timc  a,uo  a  Chinese 
ofhrir  with  200  scjldit-rs  was  moved  to  Tin.u'ri  to  j^iiard  the 
country  from  intrusion  from  the  south.  Not  even  a  (iurkha 
or  a  Hindu  can  now  travel  in  Tilnt  without  especial  per- 
mission. The  other  day  I  received  a  Utter  from  the 
Chinesi'  frontier  olTicial  in  Tin.ijri  wliich  I  will  read  to  you. 
As  vou  see,  he  orders  me  to  force  any  European  who  may 
come  to  Saka  from  the  norlli  to  return  in  his  own  footstejjs. 
If  he  refuses,  I  have  to  send  otT  a  messenj^'er  to  Tinj^'ri,  and 
shall  receive  assistance  in  a  few  days  from  the  soldiers 
stationed  there.  Times  are  changed  in  Tilx-t.  If  you  will 
not  listen  to  me  and  travel  back  by  the  way  you  came, 
I  will  send  a  messenger  to  Tint^^ri.  Hut,  like  you,  I  hope 
that  we  shall  come  to  an  aj,'reement  without  unpleasantness 
and  outside  interference." 

Mv  ne.xt  move  was  a  feint,  namely,  to  try  for  the 
Clyan^tsc  route;  I  would  in  the  end  conform  to  his  wishes 
and  give  up  the  (iyangtse  route  under  the  condition  that  I 
should  not  be  compelled  to  travel  alonj^  roads  I  knew 
already.  I  pointed  out  how  near  we  were  to  (iyangtse,  and 
how  easily  he  would  get  rid  of  me  if  I  went  thither,  but  nothing 
made  any  impression  on  him.  He  only  answered,  "All  that 
is  true,  but  the  road  is  closed  to  you." 

"Well,  I  will  give  it  up  for  your  sake,  but  only  on  con- 
dition that  you  forward  a  letter  from  me  to  the  British 
Trade  Agent  in  Gyangtse.  Vou  can  understand  that  my 
fam.ily  are  disturbecl  at  my  long  absence  and  are  looking  for 
news  of  me." 

"Ves,  I  can  understand  that,  but  I  regret  to  say  that  I 
cannot  forward  your  correspondence.  All  the  authorities  in 
Tibet  are  strictlv  forbidden  to  assist  a  European  in  anv  wav, 
as  he  has  no  right  to  travel  in  the  c(juntry." 

"Vou  will  perhaps  allow  two  of  my  rjwn  servants  to  carry 
a  letter  from  me  to  Gyangtse?" 

"Xo,  never !" 

"Well,  at  least,  you  can  inform  the  Dcvashung  of  my 
arrival,  and  ask  the  Government  to  send  notice  of  it  to 
Gyangtse." 

"I   sent   a   messenger  to   the   Dcvashung  as   soon  as   I 


<A' 


f 


I, 


ft 


dl' 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


received  the  letter  from  Kindor.  They  will  know  in  Lhasa 
in  a  few  days  that  you  arc  romc  here  again." 

I  had  never  induced  any  Tibetan  magistrate  to  forward 
my  letters.  I'hat  I)(jrche  T^uen  refused  to  do  mc  such  a 
trilling  service  had  the  deplorable  consequence  that  my 
famiiv  did  not  receive  any  reliable  re[)ort  of  me  till  Sep- 
tember, and  therefore  supposed  that  some  misfortune  had 
Ix-fallen  me.  Instead  of  reaching  the  fnjntier  in  a  couple 
of  weeks,  I  was  sent  back  again  into  the  silence  of  Tibet, 
and  the  waves  washed  again  over  our  track.  Hut  I  took  it 
for  granted  that  news  of  our  arrival  on  the  lasam  would 
penetrate  to  (iyangtse  both  ofhcially  and  through  rep<jrts, 
and  would  then  Ix'  made  known  everywhere.  Such,  how- 
ever, was  not  the  case,  and  after  we  left  the  tas,  n  our  fate 
was  buried  in  the  same  complete  silence  as  bef(    e. 

"Xo,  Iledin  Sahib,"  Dorche  Tsuen  cried  out,  "the 
only  way  open  to  you  is  the  one  by  which  you  came  from 
the'  north." 

"I  will  never  travel  by  that  road.      It  is  no  use  talkmg 

about  it." 

"You  must." 

"You  cannot  force  me  to  do  so.  To  begin  with,  I  will 
not  let  you  know  which  way  I  came,  and  I  travelled  in 
disguise." 

'Tt  does  not  matter.  It  is  very  well  known  that  you 
came  from  the  Samye-la  and  the  Kinchen-la.  Beyond  that 
the  escort  I  shall  send  with  you  will  ask  the  way  from  tent  to 

tent." 

"The  nomads  will  answer  that  they  have  seen  no 
Ladakis.  for  fear  of  being  punished." 

"I  shall  find  means  of  making  them  confess  more  than 
you  think." 

"You  can  kill  me  if  you  like,  but  you  shall  never  force 
me  to  travel  over  the  S'amyc-la.  Remember  that  I  am  a 
European  and  a  friend  of  the  Tashi  Lama.  Yov.  may  lose 
your  button." 

Much  tlisturbed,  Dorche  Tsuen  conferred  in  whispers  with 

NL'avang, 

'  -T  will  givcwav  so  far  for  your  sake  that   I  will  allow 
you  to   return   to   Ladak   by   tlie  same   road   you   followed 


', i;.     '!'hk  Ai  ni"i.-  IS  ■^lll^T^\•   Dki^--'-. 
lr>.m  a  jili^d. 'graiih  In  llii'  Ki^.  Mr.  M.irs,  in  I'.xj. 


Iltfi 


.^£^^ 


mt> 


■  t 


H 


f 


•  <li 


LXVIII 


Till-:    GOVERNOR   OF   SAKA 


350 


last  year,  throuRh  Tradum,  Tuksum,  Shamsang,  Parka,  and 

(iartok." 

That  was  the  very  solution  I  most  feared.  If  there 
were  any  road  in  all  'lilxt  that  I  wished  to  avoid  at  any  cost 
it  was  the  road  to  Ladak.     I  answi-rrd  : 

"Never!     Not  a  stt])  on  the  gnat  hi),di  road  to  Ladakl" 
"But   why?    Vou  ought   to  be   thankful   for  -o   great  a 
concession." 

"It  is  forbidilei.  Ijy  the  laws  of  my  country  for  a  man  to 
return  in  his  own  footsteps.  Vou  can  cut  my  throat,  but  you 
will  not  force  me  to  do  anything  of  the  sort." 

"You  must  have  strange  laws  in  your  country.  May 
I  hear  which  way  you  really  wish  to  take?" 

"I  have  already  said  through  (Jyangtse.  Vou  refused 
and  I  understand  your  motive.  Vou  have  urged  me  to  go 
back  to  the  north.  Even  in  this  respect  I  will  conform  to 
your  wishes,  but  only  on  the  condition  that  I  am  not 
obliged  to  retrace  my  stei)s.  I  will  go  over  another  pass  east 
of  the  Samye-la  and  northwards  to  the  Teri-nam-tso  and 
then  westwards  by  the  shortest  way  out  of  Tilx-t." 

"That  is  not  to  \>c  thought  of.  But  let  us  take  the 
matter  quietly.  Will  you  agree  to  accompany  me  to 
Kamba  Tsen'am's  tent,  four  days'  journey  from  here? 
You  have  been  there  already,  antl  lx;forc  wc  reach  it  we  shall 
have  come  to  some  understanding." 
"Yes,  willingly." 

Opposition  spurred  me  on.  It  now  became  a  point  of 
honour  to  win  a  new  game  of  chess.  My  jK)sition  was 
very  strong.  The  iasam  was  eliminated.  If  I  could  only 
cross  the  Trans-Himalaya  by  a  more  easterly  pass,  I 
should  by  some  ruse  or  other  gain  the  Teri-nam-tso, 
Mendong-gompa,  the  lower  Buptsang-tsangpo,  the  Tarok- 
tso,  Selipuk,  and  an  eighth  Trans-Himalayan  pass.  Yes, 
now  I  must,  if  ever,  play  my  cards  well.  I  still  felt  young 
and  strong.  The  political  entanglement  which  encom- 
passed me  on  all  sides  in  Tibet  rendered  it  diii'icult  for 
me  to  make  geographical  discoveries,  but  it  stimulated  my 
ambition.  Therefore  I  rememlx^r  with  particular  warmth 
and  sympathy  all  those  who,  in  virtue  of  their  tcmpurary 
power  in  the  world,  sought  to  raise  obstacles  in  my  way. 


m^immMJr 


:^M%m^sm3^^W^^- 


1,()0 


TRAXS-IITMALAYA 


:i|l 


ml 


ll  I 


IS  <.i 


Wc  then  talked  on  various  subjects.  He  wished  to 
sec  our  weapons,  antl  asked  if  he  could  buy  a  revolver. 
".\o;  you  shall  have  it  as  a  j)resent,  cartridges  and  all,  if  you 
will  let  me  go  the  way  1  have  proposed." 

"Il'ml" 

"\ou  must  procure  us  all  the  provisions  wc  need  for  two 
months,  besides  new  shoes,  clothing,  tobacco,  horses,  mules, 
yaks." 

"  With  pleasure;   make  out  a  list  of  all  you  want." 

It  was  done  at  once.  Meal,  tsumbn,  tea,  sugar,  Japanese 
cigarettes,  which  were  said  to  be  procurable  —  all  was  to  be 
brought  from  Tsongka,  whither  mounted  men  were  sent 
the  same  day  across  the  Tsangjvo  and  over  the  Ncvu-la. 
Everything  was  to  Ix;  in  our  tents  in  a  week.  The  rest  could 
be  obtained  from  Saka-dzoi- ;.  In  the  evening  I  paid 
an  eciually  long  return  visit  to  my  valiant  friend  Pun 
Dorche  I'suen,  and  at  night  I  consigned  my  letter  to  Lien 
Darin  to  the  flames.  Ah  no!  no  Chinese  interference  in 
Tilx'to-Swedish  affairs. 

On  the  28th  we  remained  (|uiet  and  visited  one  another 
l)y  the  hour  together.  The  two  governors  sat  (jn  Ix-nches 
fastened  to  the  wall,  Rindor  and  Oang  Gyc  on  mats  on  the 
floor,  and  all  four  plaved  at  dice.  The  two  dice  were  shaken 
in  a'  wcxiden  lx)wl,  and  turned  out  on  to  a  round  piece 
of  skin.  The  markers  were  small  Indian  snailshells. 
Then  they  ])layed  with  Chinese  dominoes.  Meanwhile 
they  drank  tea,'  smoked  pipes,  sang,  joked,  laughed,  and 
moved  the  bricks  with  wonderful  and  graceful  dexterity. 
Xgavang  won  ten  tcut^as  and  was  greatly  elated.  _  In  this 
wav  they  pass  the  time  when  the  day's  work  is  done. 
Rindor  is  the  Governor's  private  secretary,  and  on  a  bench 
and  a  table  lav  piles  of  documents  and  letters,  written  on 
coarse  Chinese'  paper,  and  folded  up  one  on  another.  The 
Governor's  correspondence  now  comes  to  Semoku.  and  his 
daily  work  must  run  its  course.  His  province,  Saka,  is 
very  extmsive,  and  he  states  with  some  pride  that  his 
power  stretches  to  Sangsang  in  the  east,  to  the  Nexoi-la 
in  the  south,  to  the  Mariunvla  in  the  west,  and  northwards 


oy..;        '(i'.'.rr.OV 


bovond  KamVia  Tsenam".    tent. 


The  illustrious'  gentlemen  were  much  amused  with  my 


>^k 


,Mj 


V' 


^m.^ 


•'^-— -      ' 


<J' 


t1  H 


347 


f 

U4.  345-     Suii'iKks  (IK  im;  (;\kki:.o\  m   >  \k  x-h/um,,  hkminmn''.  i<>  oik  K-^.i.Rr. 

;i6.'AR\iri)    Tuurvv    irom  mi     Cmmpv    luiwns     riu:    Ti  Ri  n  \\i  i-o     \smj    the 

!!vx..K  \--.r%i  ;  -:.      W7-  "••■     ■••■'     ■■■ -.!.----    I.-- 

Tkri-n  WII^i'. 


jl 


tHr  irff^W" 


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4l^M 


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iiSi?^    "'s 


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fpplplillll 


Lxvni 


THE   GOVERNOR   OF   SARA 


361 


costume.  "You  arc  a  Sahib,"  they  said ;  -you  wye  for 
six  weeks  the  j^uest  of  the  Tashi  Lama;  you  employ  one 
raravan  after  another,  and  leave  a  .|uantityc)f  monev 
beliintl  you,  and  yet  are  dressed  more  shal)bily  inan  any  ol 

vour  servants."  i  •  .      ,i„. 

'  \t  ni"ht  their  horses  and  mules  were  driven  to  tit 
station-house  bv  soldiers,  and  we  ou^ht  to  have  taken  the 
same  precautioJi,  for  our  horses  were  attacked  by  wolves. 
The  brown  horse  we  ha<l  bought  two  weeks  l)efore  for 
,00  rupees  had  his  two  ri^ht  feet  tied  to,i^ether  lest  he 
should  run  awav,  and  the  wolves  directe<l  their  attack  on 
him  as  he  could  not  escape,  ate  him  up.  an(l  to()k  the 
head  olT  with  them.  At  any  rate  it  was  missing  in  the 
morninj^     from     the     skeleton,     which     was     pretty     closely 

strip])ed.  ,  1     1  .1 

On    \\n\\  29  we    rode  together   on    the    road    down   the 
Semoku    vallev,    which    runs    to    the    upper    Brahmaputra 
(Illustration  3]-,).     This  we  left  on  the  left  hand,  as  we     as 
the   hisam,  and   ascended   a  valley    where    the    little    village 
of   Ushv   with    its   stone   huts   and   barley   tields   is   situated 
The    150    inhabitants    are    at    home   only    at    seedtime    and 
harvest;   the  rest  of  the  year  they  are  away,  tending  their 
sheep      Thence    we    i)roceeded    the    following    day    to    the 
pass  Ushv-la.     The  wav  is  marked  by  a  succession  of  mam 
heaps  and  clihorlais,  and  the  pass  by  rods  so  thin  as  to  be 
invisible   at   a   distance,  and   the   streamers   they  carry   look 
like   a   flock   of   tied    birds.     A   little    farther   to   the   north- 
west   we    crossed    the    pass    (^,ve-la,    where    Chomo-uchong 
makes  a  fine  display,  and  soon  after  we  were  on  the  main 
pass   of   the   same    name  (16,135  feet).     From    a    hill    near 
the   eye    can    sweep   over   all    the    horizon,    the    peaks    and 
.'laciei-s    of    the    Himalayas,    Chomo-uctiong,    and    close    at 
hand  to  the  south-south-east    the    Brahmaputra    valley    with 
the   river   meandering   in   several   arms.     We    encamped   on 
the    bank    of    the    Sachu-tsangp^    which    tlows    into    the 
Chaktak-tsangpo    west    of    Saka-dzong.      Here    also    lies    a 
votive  block  of  a  hard  green  rock,  covered  with  oiTerings,  bits 
of  butter,  and  streamers. 

THo    ,st   of   Mav   was  celebra<'-d   by   a   march   over   the 
Lamlung-la,    a    difficult    pass,    oa    the    saddle    of    which, 


m 


H-^^r  jii'z: 


UWM^^ 


r.^>*4'- 


gmmm, 


362 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


I, 

4 


16,791  feet  hi^h,  the  traveller  is  apiin  rewarded  by  a 
magnificent  view  over  this  comf)licated  sea  of  mountains. 
From  here  (."homo-uchont^'s  seven  summits  appear  in  a 
compact  t,'rou]);  the  central  one  is  of  a  regular  conical 
shape  and  is  pure  white  all  over;  the  others  consist  chiefly 
of  black  clitTs  and  projections,  from  among  which  issue 
small  blue-tinged  glaciers.  The  length  of  the  massive 
corresponds  to  that  of  Lunpo-gangri,  of  which  it  is  a 
continuation. 

In  the  Xamchen  valley  our  united  camp  formed  f^uite 
a  little  village,  for  all  the  chiefs  of  the  country  were 
conwned  to  a  consultation.  And  here  it  was  that  Rindor 
and  Pemba  Tsering  joined  us  with  all  the  goods  we  had 
ordered  from  S'lka-dzong.  We  stayed  here  two  days. 
The  weather  was  raw  and  chilly,  and  the  tem|)crature 
constantly  fell  to  8.2°.  There  was  no  spring  as  yet.  But 
the  wild-geese  w(.'re  on  their  migrati<jn,  and  when  Tubgcs 
once  shot  a  gander  at  a  neighbouring  brook.  Gang  Gye 
came  to  complain  to  me.  lie  was  quite  overcome  at  this 
bruial  murder,  and  coukl  not  conceive  how  my  servant  could 
be  so  heartless  and  cruel. 

"Vou  are  right,"  I  answered;  "lam  myself  sorry  for 
the  wild-geese.  But  you  must  remember  that  we  are 
travellers,  and  dei)enilent  for  our  livelihood  on  what  the 
country  yields.  Often  the  chase  and  fishing  are  our  only 
resources." 

"In  this  district  you  have  plenty  of  sheep." 

"  Is  it  not  just  as  wrong  to  kill  sheep  and  eat  their 
flesh?" 

"Xo!"  he  exclaimed,  with  passionate  decision;  "that 
is  cjuite  another  matter.  Vou  surely  will  not  compare 
sheep  'o  wild-geese.  There  is  as  much  dilTerence  Ix'tween 
them  as  between  sheep  and  human  beings.  For,  like 
human  beings,  the  wild-geese  marry  and  have  families. 
.And  if  you  sever  such  a  union  by  a  thoughtless  shot,  you 
cause  sorrow  and  misery.  The  goose  which  has  just  been 
bereaved  of  her  mate  will  seek  him  fruitlessly  by  day  and 
night,  and   will  never  leave    the    place  where    he    has  been 


!  1 1  -..H  Ut-  2  C  U . 


IT,.-    i:r Ml    K,.    ,    . 


1  ••,' 


1      f-rl- —       1      -l-.. 


will    never   enter   upon    a    new   union,    but   will    remain   a 


M 


t^il 


LXVIII 


THE   GOVERNOR   OF   SAKA 


363 


widow,  and  will  soon  die  of  grief.  A  woman  cannot  mourn 
more  deeply  than  she  will,  and  the  man  who  has  caused  such 
sorrow  draws  down  a  punishment  on  himself." 

The  excellent  Gang  Gye  was  quite  inconsolable.  We 
might  shoot  antelopes,  wild'  sheep,  and  partridges  as  much 
as  ever,  if  onlv  we  left  the  wild-geese  in  peace.  I  had 
heard  in  the  Lob  country  similar  tales  of  the  sorrow  of  the 
swans  when  their  union'  was  dissolved  by  death.  It  was 
moving  to  witness  Gang  Gve's  tenderness  and  great 
sympathy  for  the  wild-geese,  and  I  felt  the  deepest  respect 
for  him.'  Many  a  noble  and  sensitive  heart  beats  in  the  cold 
and  desolate  va      -s  of  Tilx-t. 


CHAPTER   LXIX 


i  I 


'I  I 


I 


KAMBA  TSENAM,    FATHER   OF  THE  ROBBERS 

At  the  Xamohcn  camp  wc  lx)usht  a  large  supply  of  rice, 
meal,  barlev.  and  tsamlni,  sugar,  stearin  candles,  soap,  and 
five   hundred   cigarettes.  -  all   procured   from   Isongka.      A 
rich   merchant,   Xgutu.   who  owned   fifty   horses  and  mules 
and   two   hundred    vaks,    s.ld   us   two   mules   and   a   horse 
bcM<les   cloth  for   new   garments,  boots,    and   caps.      .\l)dul 
K'-rim    hastened    to   make    me   a    Tibetan   costume   of    fme 
Lhasa    cloth;    on    mv    head    I    wore    a    Chinese    silk    cap 
swathed  with  a  red  turban;    I  stalked  alx^ut  in  silk  Chinese 
boots,    and    had    an    elegant    sword    in    my    gird  e.  _  In  my 
Ladaki    saddle    with    its    variegated    fittings,    and    riding    a 
milk-white  stallion.  I  looked  in  this  makeshift  outfit  quite  like 
a  Tibetan  of  rank  (Illustration  343)-    ,    .      ^      ,       ^, 

Here    a    large    meeting    was    held    in    Dorchc    Isuens 

tent   where  the  question  of   my  return  route  was  disc  ussed. 

Dorche    Tsuen    insisted    on    the    necessity   of    my   crossing 

the    Samve-la    again,    and    1    answered,    as    before,    tha    1 

intended  'to  take  no  other  way  than  over  a  pass  cast  of  the 

Samvc-la.     Then  he  appealed  to  the  nomads  at  hand,  who 

no    doubt    had    received    their   instructions  beforehand,    anc 

thev  all    afllrmed    that    the    Chang-tang    could    be    reached 

by  "no   other   pass   than   the   Samye-la.      Ilowever,   we   had 

heard   from   tne   horse-driver   on   the  Gebuk-la   that   a   way 

led  ..ver  the  mountains  directly  north  of  Kamba    Isenams 

tent      Hut  then  the  nomads,  who  would  have  to  let  us  yak^ 

„n   hire,   replie.l   that   the   road  was  so  ba<l   that   we  could 

not    reach    the   'larok-tso    in    three    inuntns.    and    Inat,    lyT 

their  iKirt,  they  would  not  let  their  yaks  go,  and  come  to  griet 

364 


•  ^1 


W-^^ 


ripi 


;4^.     'Ikim.i'I  k  I'l    1  III    i,v, 


IIH'MKRli    ilF     Ho> 


\S    "h     '!>  kl-N  \\\- 


SL..1,  I,...    1., 


l^S^^^^i^^^^^^^ 


:T!f-;"'.-:'5?;: 


*-z^  -  *  "  ,    "  ■  ■    Tr      ■  ■    -  ■    iv 


(» 


'■^mik  w:  m^^^ 


I       i 


I  • 


I 


I 


m 


(  IIVH.  LXIX 


KAMBA   TSENAM 


365 


(,n  the  detritus  of  the  pass.  Then  wc  offered  to  buy 
\;iks,  but  found  no  one  who  would  sell  his  animals,  .\fter 
Dorche  Tsuen  had  informed  me  that  those  wh(.  travelled 
from  Saka  into  Bon^ba  with  hired  yaks  had  to  ehan>,'e 
lK)th  men  and  pack  animals  at  Buj-to  on  the  ujjper 
Buptsang-tsangpo,  I  propos«.-d  to  divide  my  caravan  mto 
two  sections,  one  of  which,  under  Alxlul  Kerim,  would 
cross  the  Samye-la,  while  I  with  the  other  half  marched 
over  the  eastern  pass;  we  would  meet  on  the  lower  course 
of  the  Buptsang-tsangpo.  Ngutu,  a  genial  old  man()f 
Mongolian  origin,  su])ported  me.  giving  it  as  his  opmion 
that  it  was  of  no  consecjuence  which  pass  I  crossed  myself, 
i)rovided  that  the  main  part  of  the  caravan  went  over  the 
Samye-la;  but  Dorche  Tsuen  was  still  obstinate,  and  tried 
to  frighten  me  with  a  tale  of  ten  well-armed  rf)blx-rs  whose 
haunts  were  in  the  country  north  of  the  mountain  I  wished 
to  pass  over. 

"If    the    country    is    unsafe,"    I    returned,    "i^^^is    your 
duty  to  provide  me  with  an  escort  of  ten  sokliers." 

"The  soldiers  Ixlong  to  the  garrison  of  Saka-dzong,  and 
cannot  Ix-  employed  elsewhere." 

"Listen  to  me,  Dorche  Tsuen.  and  do  not  be  so  short- 
sighted. If  you  give  me  ten  soldiers,  you  will  be  able  to 
control  mv  'movements.  I  will  pay  them  2  rujK'es  a 
man  j)er  dav  for  their  services,  that  is,  20  rupees  a  day 
altogether.  You  can  well  Ixlieve  that  I  cannot  afford 
such  a  great  expense  for  a  long  time,  and  therefore  you 
will  have  a  guarantee  that  I  shall  not  take  a  long  round - 
alxjut  way.  When  I  have  rejoined  Aklul  Kerim's  party  I 
shall  be  beyond  the  limits  of  your  province,  and  the  escort 
can  return." 

"That  is  true,"  exclaimed  two  voices  in  the  crowd; 
"if  he  pays  20  rupees  a  day,  he  cannot  go  far." 

Dorche  Tsuen  rose  and  called  some  of  the  other  men 
to  a  consultation  outside  the  tent,  and  when  he  came  back 
again  he  said  that  I  might  have  my  wish,  if  I  would  sign  a 
written  declaration  that  I  took  upon  myself  all  responsi- 
bilitv  for  the  consequences,  for  he  wished  to  be  free  from 
blarne  if  any  misfortune  K-fell  me.  Of  course  I  promised 
to  sign  such  a  documt  nt  with  pleasure. 


t''VtV'.>ijClI'iv''.%  vt*-#'  . 


^5i:jr 


(i 


V 


\ 


IV 


III 


\i 


366 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


Thus  thf  matk-r  was  arrangid.  Xima  Tashi  (Illus- 
tration ,^53),  a  powerful  man  of  pleasant  asiRCt,  and 
(IrcssLMJ  in  a  loose  sheepskin,  was  to  Ix'  thief  of  the 
IxHlyKuani,  and  a>  he  said  he  did  not  know  the  road  to 
the 'north,  I'anchor  f  Illustration  332),  a  man  fifty  five  years 
of  age,  was  ordered  to  act  as  guide.  He  was  called  into 
the  tent.  I  had  not  seen  him  Ufore,  but  Abdul  Kerim 
said  that  he  was  the  same  man  who  on  April  23  had  shown 
us  the  way  to  the  foot  of  the  Kinchen-la,  and  that  he  had 
seen  me  and  Muhamed  Isa  last  year  in  Saka-dzong.  He 
was  a  little,  thin,  wiry  man  who  had  killed  eighty  yaki, 
with  the  gun  he  always  carried.  To  everything  that  was 
said  to  him  he  agreed  submissively  with  "La  lasso,  la  lasso." 
We  could  see  that  he  was  sly  and  knavish  —  just  t^     stuff 

wc  wanted. 

With  him  and  all  the  other  company  we  rode  on  May  4 
over  the  pass  Gara-la,  and  from  its  rather  flat  threshold 
saw  Kamba  Tsenam's  tent  still  in  the  same  place.  Here 
we  crossetl,  then,  our  route  of  A[)ril  22,  and  had  made  a  loop 
round  the  snowy  massive  Chomo  uchong. 

Panchor  was  the  elder  brother  of  Kamba  Tsenam,  and 
it  struck  me  as  curious  that  when  the  Governor  of  Saka 
pitched  his  tent  Ix'side  that  of  the  wealthy  nomad,  the 
latter  did  not  come  out  to  welcome  him.  Now  a  collection 
of  tents  had  sprung  up  in  the  valley  larger  than  at  any 
of  the  foregoing  camjis.  Couriers  and  messengers  came 
and  went,  small  yak  caravans  came  up  to  the  tents  with  pro- 
visions for  the  o'flicials,  and  nomads  had  come  in  from  the 
neighVx)urhood  to  have  a  look  at  the  eccentric  European  who 
had  come  down  like  a  bomb  into  the  country  and  had  been 
caught  at  last. 

Late  in  the  evening  Kamba  Tsenam  came  sneaking 
into  my  tent.  He  was  very  mysterious,  and  said  that  the 
Governor  and  his  people  had  no  notion  that  he  was  paying 
me  a  visit  in  the  darkness.  He  wished  only  to  say  that 
Panchor  could  very  well  contrive  that  I  should  go  almost 
anywhere  I  liked.'  The  escort  had  strict  orders  from  the 
authorities,  but  only  Panchor  knew  the  way,  and  could 
easilv  throw  dust  into  the  eyes  of  ihe  other  men.  I  ..an 
only'  to  make  my  wishes  known  to  Panchor  and  he  would 


.  t,' 


;,       (,1    i   -1-     M     Mil     I  MM   \l\'.   ■.!     M-.    Tl   M    "N     I  HI      H  \NK.   ..I     Mil     'I   I   Kl    N  Wl 

(  n,  ■   Ih     ..prM    4  ,1  |.:ai  I  i-  -li<  I    111    I    ■■  .1  I'-    "■   <!■'  '    '-        ''  ''"■  ■""   ' 


Tm     V\K^    ImiP1>1\(.    TllK    Rl\fR    S.  M  \-TS\M.i-n. 


:fif,  - 


WW^ 

f^M 


I    I 


if' 


hJkJkjlMal^ 


tAlX 


kAMBA    rsENAM 


367 


\k-    governor    of    Saka. 

and   he    himself   was   a 

There  vvas  not  a  man 


manage  the  rest.  If  also  a  band  of  fifty  roblK-rs  swept 
,l,,\vn  on  us  like  a  whirlwind,  they  would  disj)cTsc  like 
>lRel)  as  soon  as  they  knew  that  I'anehor  with  his  never^ 
l.iiling  gun  was  with  us.  Kamla  Tsenam  thus  revealetl 
hiin^elt  as  a  cunning  rogue,  who  had  not  the  slightest 
re>|)eit  for  the  authorities  of  Saka.  The  old  fiK)l  promised 
that  1  should  travel  by  the  roads  I  \\i>he«l  if,  in  return, 
I  would  contrive  that  he  should 
What  he  said  was  only  idle  talk, 
fellow  to  \k  on  our  guard  against, 
in  Hongba  who  had  evir  heard  of  him,  and  his  great  power 
c.xisted  only  in  his  own  imagination.  In  his  own  village 
he  was  kmnvn  and  flattered  on  account  of  his  great  wealth, 
and  he  boasted  that  no  robUr  dared  to  touch  his  flocks, 
for  he  was  their  trusted  friend.  "I  am  the  father  of  all  the 
roblxrs,"  he  said  m<Klestly. 

I  willingly  accepted  his  invitation  to  visit  his  tent  next 
morning.  When  I  had  passed  it  the  first  time  it  was  in  a 
snowstorm,  and  I  had  looked  ui)on  it  as  a  serious  menace 
to  my  jjlans  and  my  freedom.  Almost  like  a  thief  in  the 
night,  expecting  to  be  discovered  every  moment,  I  had 
stolen  past  the  black  nomad  dwelling.  Now  I  approached  it 
as  an   honoured   guest,   only   barked   at   by  dogs. 

The  huge  tent,  made  of  a  number  of  pieces  of  material, 
is  supported  by  three  veritable  masts,  firmly  fixed  in  the 
ground.  A  stone  wall  runs  along  the  inner  side,  and  in 
front  of  it  are  heaps  of  tsiimba,  rice,  and  corn  sacks. 
Baskets  and  boxes  stand  full  of  clothing.  The  altar,  a 
wooden  shelf,  and  a  table  arc  laden  with  f^aos,  images, 
votive  bowls,  praying  mills,  and  holy  Ixxjks.  In  one  corner 
stand  perhaps  a  dozen  guns  with  streamers  on  their  rests, 
and  in  another  as  many  swords.  On  the  hearth,  built  on 
the  left  of  the  entrance,  always  stands  a  large  tea-kettle 
boiling,  ready  for  any  guests  that  may  come  in.  A  battery 
(,f  wooden  cups  stands  on  a  stone  slab  ready  for  use.  The 
bluish  grev  smoke  rises  up  towards  the  chimney  opening. 
Far  awav  "from  the  entrance,  at  the  right  corner,  the  master 
of  the  house  has  his  seat  of  honour,  a  small  divan  with  a 

■«looi     labiC      DCIOrC     it,     aiul      i-rlwrt;     ti:J3     a.-^^i:i     u      i.-tj .- , 

like  a  hollow  cracked  cannon  ball,  filled  with  reeking  dung 


It-?] 


' 


368 


TRANS-IIIM.\LAYA 


CHAP. 


A 


embers.  Some  of  Kamba  Tsenam's  shepherds  are  sitting 
in  a  },'n)Up  drinking  Ua,  in  another  part  some  small  black 
children  are  i)lavinf,',  and  in  a  third  the  women  of  the  tent 
ar^'  titlerinK-  \^'ith  pure  while  short  hair,  wrinkled  like 
crushed  parchment,  stone-blind,  and  (b-essed  like  Monna 
Vanna  onlv  in  a  cloak,  Kamba  'IVenam's  eighty-three-year- 
old  mother  sits  on  her  i)ed  and  swings  her  prayer  mill  with 
the  right  hand,  while  her  left  hand  keejjs  the  lx."ads  of  her 
rosary  in  constant  motion.  She  prattles  and  murmurs 
prayers,  sometimes  drojjs  lier  njsary  to  catch  a  troublesome 
insect,  and  sometimes  lets  the  prayer  mill  stop  when  she  is 
plunged  in  vague  dreamy  th(jught.  Twice  she  asked  if 
the  Kuropean  were  still  there  and  if  he  had  been  offered  tea 
and  food. 

May  5,  the  last  dav  we  enjoyed  Dorchc  Tsuen's  society, 
had  to'  be  celebrated  in  some  way.  I  invited  the  whole 
party  to  a  fe-lival  in  the  camp.  The  two  Governors  and 
Oang  Gye  took  their  places  in  my  tent,  in  the  middle  of 
which  our  tea-cups  were  filled  on  an  improvised  table. 
The  dav  had  k'en  cold  and  muggy  and  snow  fell,  but  we 
warmed'  our  hands  over  the  fire,  and  sat  wrapped  in  skin 
coats  like  four  Tibetans  of  rank,  while  the  populace  formed 
a  circle  outside.  .\  fire  was  lighted  in  the  middle  and  was 
maintained  bv  dung  from  four  sacks.  It  was  pitch  dark 
outside,  but  vellow  tlames  threw  a  bright  gleam  over  the 
dark  Tibetan's,  servants,  herdsmen,  nomads  and  soldiers, 
women  and  children,  youths  and  old  men.  They  stood  in 
wondering  groups  in  their  skin  coats  blackened  by  the 
smoke  of  fires,  bare  headed,  with  long  black  tresses  hang- 
ing over  tluir  >houlders.  The  light  from  the  fire  made 
a  ""vain  attempt  to  gild  them.  They  stood  out  in  sharp 
etTeclive  relief  against  the  deep  shadows  (Illustration  3^6). 

I  charged  .\Ulul  Kerim  to  do  his  very  Ix-st,  and  he 
inlormed  me  that  the  programme  would  contain  fifteen 
items,  song  and  dance  following  alternately  without  a 
pause.  The  first  item  was  a  dance  with  slicks  to  represent 
swords;  the  second,  a  hunting  ejnsode:  a  wild  animal, 
coniposid  of  two  crouching  men  with  a  jnece  of  felt  over 
them  and  two  sticks  for  horns,  went  prancing  round  the 
fire;   a    hunter  with  his  gun  crept  about,   took  aim  at   the 


Niiii.i    iJ^ln, 
lun.l -1  of  till-  ii..\tTiinifiit-K-.    rt 
ih.    u  ,v  t"  the  T(T'  II  i,n  I.'i 


Nail^   '•'    .^V  i.'lwii  : 


A   lli);!i    I  .1111  ' 


.1    l.lL.k,  In;  1'"     I'f 

W.lUr  .■'"11'  Skcliiii'^   !■>    till-   Autlmr 


t  I 


t'l 


r 


.r'^JI 


i 


m 


LXIX 


KAMBA  TSENAM 


i^^ 


monster,  killed  him  with  a  single  shot  ami  Pc^Jor^^ed^^^^ 
his  friends  a  triumphal  dance  around  the  carcase,  inen 
folo  T  a  Ladaki  dance,  little  Gulam  leadmg  the  trooj^ 
ind  after  that  Suen  executed  his  remark M.le  dance  Ix-forc 
rldv  represented  bv  a  stick  he  hel.l  lx.-fore  him.  All  he 
oti:r3\TSe\y 'clapping  their  hands  and  lav^-a  the 
Tibetans    to    join    in,    and    my    guests    m    the    tent    vNert 

^"•^"?;!r  MohammSs    executed    a    Yarkand    dance,  with 
Kutus   as   leader.     They   danced   round    the   fire    -mgng 
their  arms  and   skirts,  and   between  the  fie  ^nd   the    en 
the,    appeared  only   as   black  P'-f  ^'^' ;y.^;^\,^"   ' ^^.S^ 
side   they   were   lighted    up   by    the    "j^.^^'^h   >^"°^^  ^^A^^^^^^^ 
',nd    their    TXTsniring    faces    shone    like    bronze.     .-    song 
l.Sl '  wa^kin^g   a  'sonorous   echo   in   the   mountams     ai^ 
the    Tibetans    recognizing    the    air    joined    i"-^^"'!    ^^    'j^^. 
while  the   men  clapped   their  hands     ^  ^e  ;"^°[^^/^V^,t   i^ 
fire  took  part  in  the  dances  and   sf,metlme^  "^  \    i^'^^  " 
he  faces  of  the  spectators,  the  singing  became  louder    t  c 
merriment  more  uncontrolled,  and  the  nomads  laughed   til 
Thev  had   to  support  themselves  with   their  hands  on   the. 
I'n'es    as  'suen'Uvolved    in   grotesque    P--ttes   ovei^^h 
•irena  and   the   nomads  tried   to  imitate   him.      1  ht   clumpy 
Alxullah   pJrformecl   an   indescribable  clance  -th   ^js    -k 
K„„f   hcrV     qrul    when    h'     K-nt   himself    so   mu^n    tnai    ne 
:,f  bSarcf:   to    Ihe    edge    of    the    fire,    the    delight    o 
he    spectators    was    unbounded:     they    laughed      il    thc> 
tre    breathi,ss.     hopped    alx.ut    and    uttered     wikl    yelK 
hfe   the   performer   shook   the   sparks   from   his   coat   and 
ret ied    to    hi.    corner    (Illustrations    337-    Sf,    339,    34o). 
Th       'I^)etans     evidently     enjoye,!     themselves;     perhap 
thev    had    never    had    such    an    amusing    evening    in    their 
ivxl        orche  Tsuen  said  something  of  the  sort,     ^gavang 
gave    wav    to   his    kindly    laugh,    and    Gang    Gye   enjo>ed 
fhe    unwonted    spectacle    like    a    child.     For    my    part     I 
dreamed   awhile    and    thought   ..f    the    unexpected    and   sin- 
gu  ar  manner   in  which  fate  had  allowed  me  to  choose  my 
eour^e.     Thnnmh    the    cl'-u.ls    of    smoke    I    seemed    to    see 
all   old    Asia   Ixfore   me,   and   the  adventures   of  past   >ea  > 
behind   me.     A  carnival  of  old   camp-scenes  danced    ocfore 

a  a 


VOL.    II 


:£mmM«m^^i^-:mi^ 


h 


=^fj 


370 


TRANS-HIMALAVA 


CHAP. 


1 


my  mind's  eye,  expiring  like  shooting  stars  in  the  night  — 
merry  songs  which  came  to  an  end  among  other  mountains 
and  the  dying  sound  of  strings  and  llutes.  And  I  was 
surprised  that  I  had  not  had  enough  of  these  things  and 
that  I  was  not  tired  of  the  light  of  camp-fires. 

The  wind  rises,  the  snow  falls  thickly  and  hisses  in  the 
fire,  and  the  flakes  are  lighted  up  fnjm  below.  With  white 
hair  and  shoulders  the  Tilx'tans  l<x)k  like  mist  figures,  and 
behind  them  hang  the  dark  curtains  of  night,  from  which 
is  heard  from  time  to  time  a  pony's  neigh  or  a  dog's 
bark.  The  last  sack  of  fuel  is  emptied  over  the  leajnng 
flames,  burns  up  and  sinks,  and  only  emlx-rs  are  left,  glow- 
ing in  the  ceaselessly  falling  snow.  Then  my  grateful 
guests  rise  at  midnight,  distribute  gifts  to  the  performers, 
sav  farewell,  and  vanish  like  ghosts  in  the  darkness  to  seek 
their  own  tents.  Xow  night  reigns  alone  over  the  valley, 
the  surroundings  lie  silent  and  still,  and  only  the  pelting 
snow  makes  a  swishing  sound  again.st  the  tent. 

On  the  morning  of  May  6  the  country  was  again  white 
as  in  the  depth  of  winter.  Quietly  and  lightly  as  cotton- 
wool the  flakes  fell,  and  all,  the  Tilx-tans  included,  were 
more  wrapped  up  than  usual.  The  Governors  and  their 
retinue  came  to  pay  a  farewell  visit,  and  then  I  went  out 
with  them  to  their  horses,  took  a  last  farewell,  and  thanked 
them  for  all  the  kindness  they  had  shown  me  in  spite  of 
the  trouble  I  had  given  them.  Dorche  Tsuen  expressed 
a  hope  that  we  should  meet  again.  It  is  much  easier  to 
get  on  with  men  and  lead  them  where  you  wish  if  you 
treat  them  kindly  and  gently;  you  gain  nothing  by 
violence,  harshness,  and  threats.  The  Governor  was  a 
fine  upright  figure  on  his  horse ;  his  face  was  entirely 
covered  with  dark  spectacles  and  a  red  hood  to  protect 
it  from  the  blast  (Illustration  342).  His  troop  of  mounted 
men  was  considerably  diminished  after  his  escort  had  Uen 
told  off  to  follow  me.  They  struck  their  heels  into  their 
horses  and  soon  disappeared  up  the  hill  on  the  way  to  the 
Gara  la. 

My  caravan  was  now  to  Ix.-  divided  into  two  parties. 
Onlyfivt'  men  were  to  follow  me.  namely.  Gulam,  Lub- 
sang,    Kutiis,   Tubgcs.   and    Kunchuk.     We  had   eight  goats 


TW.)     1.  \M  \--    I'l      ^II  M"l^<;- 


,o       \|  .    --Ill  I  r  '  K.  '--IM.    1  III    Kl\  I-  f   >"vi  \  i>  \Nt.i'a. 


f:1 


i 


p*' 


1. 

,^l 

^ 

1 

i 

^^ 

LXIX 


KAMBA  TSENAM 


371 


to  ^u\)[)h  milk;  our  old  shec{>  had  Urn  sold  for  a  mere 
tiillt.'.  A  hundred  rui)CTS  for  the  first  five  days  were  paid 
in  advance  to  the  escort  under  Nima  Tashi.  \o  agree- 
ment was  made  with  Panchor,  but  he  was  t(j  U-  paid  well 
if  he  took  me  where  I  wished.  The  other  seven  Ladakis 
were  ordered  to  pnxeed  under  the  command  of  Abdul 
Kerim  over  the  Samye-la  to  the  Buptsang-tsangpo,  follow 
tlie  stream  slowly  downwards,  and  wait  for  us  near  its 
ni(juth  in  the  'larok-tso.  Whatever  they  did,  they  were 
not  to  leave  the  Buptsang-tsangpo,  or  we  might  lose  one 
an<»ther.  Rindor  and  Pemba  Tsering  were  deputed  to 
follow  them  over  the  Samye-la  to  Buptti,  to  bring  the 
Kebyang  people  to  reason  if  they  refused  transport 
animals.  My  baggage  was  reduced  to  a  minimum,  and 
I  took  with  mc  only  a  thousand  rupees.  Abdul  Kerim 
was  responsible  for  the  remainder  of  the  cash.  He  was 
an  honest  man,  but  a  noodle.  Some  nomads  accom- 
panied us  with  six  yaks  for  the  baggage  (Illustrations  344, 
348,  345)- 

Though,  according  to  our  plans,  we  were  to  be  sepa- 
rated only  a  few  weeks,  the  parting  was  touching,  and  many 
childish  tears  trickled  down  weather-lxaten  cheeks.  VVc 
had  bought  more  horses,  and  all  my  five  Ladakis  could 
ride.  We  rale  up  the  valley  in  close  order;  the  lx>ttom 
was  full  of  loose  rotten  ice,  lumpy  tufts  of  grass  with  mice- 
holes  among  them,  frozen  springs,  and  detritus  of  hard 
sireen   schist.     We   marched    north-eastwards,   and   then  due 

and    down 
at    Kamba 


west,  over  the  small  double  pass  Shalung-la, 
•)  the  Gyegong  \alley,  where  we  encam.[)ed 
Tscnam's  sheepfolds  to  buy  some  sheep  for 
escort  had  got  there  first,  and  sat  in  their 
drinking  tea. 

We    sat    talking    with    Kamlxi    Tsenam    and 
when  a   tall  and   strongly-built  young  fellow  came 
down  at  the  opening  of  my  tent. 

"I    have    seen    the    Bomljo    Ix-fore,"    he    said, 
neighbourhood    of    Xakchu.     Vou    had    a    Buryat 
lama  with  you.     That  is  seven  years  ago." 

"Quite  right.     Have  you  brought  me  a  message?" 

"Xo;    I  only  wi.-^h  to  a^k  if  you  are  dis|)osed  to  buy  two 


food.    The 
black    tent 


Panchor 
and  sat 

"in    the 
and    a 


1  *' 

i  r 


I 


I!) 


♦I 


J 


'I  it 


1    l! 


.'^72 


rRANS-HlMALAVA 


CHAP. 


^'o(k1    yaks    from    nu-.     Vou    can    have    tlum    for   half   thtir 

value." 

"Thanks;    we    do    not    want    any    yaks    now.     What    is 
your  (H(  u|>ation  .■'" 

"KohlKr'."  hf  answered,  without  blinking. 

.\ftiT  he  had  ^oiu'.  Kanitia  T-enam  informed  me  that 
sometime  at.;o  thi'  man  had  killed  a  nomad  in  Kukyok,  and 
now  was  (ome  to  treat  alM)Ut  the  compensation  for  the 
murder.  'Iht'  authorities  were  looking  eagerly  for  the 
hand  to  whieh  he  iK-lon^'ed,  and  Kainha  Tsenam  and 
I'anehor  knew  exactly  where  they  were  hidin.i,',  but  would 
not  Ixtray  them  lest  tliey  shoulcj  Ix;  rol)lHd  of  their  pro- 
l)erty  in  revenue.  Kamha  Tsenam  an<l  his  brother  were 
evidently  on  very  ronfidential  terms  with  the  roblxTs  of 
the  cou'ntrv,  and  I  very  much  susjiected  that  they  were  in 
league  with  some  of  them.  In  I'an<  hor  we  luul  certainly 
an  actual  rol)ber  chief  as  guide.  He  him.self  told  Us  that 
the  Devashung  had  tried  to  en.tfage  him  in  their  service  as 
a  s])v  ami  guide,  when  they  wished  to  track  up  an  evaded 
robber  band,  l)Ut  hi-  would  not  consent.  He  knew  that 
we  had  a  largi-  (juantity  of  money  with  Us,  and  we  were 
not  too  safe  in  his  company.  He  could  very  well  arrange 
a  night  attack  and  in  the  end  i)lay  the  innonnt.  He  pre- 
tended not  to  know  the  country  Ixyond  a  cou]>le  of  days' 
journev  to  the  north,  but  wlun  he  ins|)(.cted  our  si.\  horses 
he  said:  "This  one  you  bought  from  an  okl  nomad  to  the 
west  of  Sha-kangsham.  and  this  one  from  Tsongpun 
Tashi."  If  he  knew  every  horse  in  the  covmtry,  he  must 
also  know  the  country  very  well.  1  asked  him  to  go  over 
the  names  of  our  cami)lng-j)laces  to  the  north,  but  he  gave 
only  the  first  two,  and  added:  "The  rest  you  will  know- 
as  vou  go  on,  and  if  I  cannot  find  them  myself,  there  will 
alwavs  l)e  some  roblx-rs  I    can  ask." 

C)n  May  7  we  tiK^k  leave  of  the  old  r.)blx'r  chief 
Kaml)a  Tsenam,  and  rode  in  close  order  uj)  to  the  pass 
Gvegong  la.  which  has  a  height  of  18,012  feet.  The  pass 
stands  on  a  distinctly  marked  chain,  which  is  called  Kan- 
chung-gangri,  and  it  was  very  interesting  to  find  that  all 
the  water  on  the  northern  side  of  the  pass  llowed  to  the 
upper   Chaklak  tsangpo 


Kanrhung-gangri    is   therefore  not 


I\IX 


KAMBA    rSENAM 


373 


part  of  the  main  ran^o  of  the  Trans  Himalaya,  and  the 
CycKon^;  la  is  only  a  secondary  i)a>s.  'Hie  ^reat  water- 
shed lav  some  days'' journey  farther  to  the  north. 

On  the  northern  side  we  i)a>sed  a  warm  sprinR,  Memo- 
(hutsen.  which  at  the  oritue  had  a  temi»erature  of  g.v^'', 
while  in  another  the  water  Ixjiled  and  steamed.  The 
sprinf^s  are  surrounded  by  sinter,  terraces,  and  basins  in 
whi(h   sick  jKople  bathe. 

Tanclior  had  an  old  field -^lass  and  diligently  l(H)ke(l  out 
for  robUTs  and  wild  yaks,  lie  said  that  we  ought  always 
t(.  keep  together  in  ca-^e  we  were  attackid  by  roblxr^  he 
did  not  kn(jw,  and  he  bade  us  help  with  our  weap<jns  in  the 
ilefence. 

The  camp  this  day  was  \o.  400. 


I 


!! 
K 

H 

i-  - 

i' 
L 


I 

I 

I' 


'V 


i'l 


CIIAPTElt   LXX 


THE  SEVENTH  CROSSING   OF    THE    TRANS  niMAI.AYA  ~  TO   THE 
HEAVENLY    LAKE   OF   THE   THRONE   MOUNTAIN 

Twenty-nine  degrees  of  frost  on  the  night  of  May  8. 
Winter  instead  of  sj)ring  might  U-  roniing.  A  month  ago 
it  was  much  varmer  in  Hongha.  Hut  now  we  are  mounting 
up  to  the  heigtits  of  the  Trans  Himalaya,  the  weather  is 
cold,  raw,  and  windy,  the  temi)erature  seldom  al)ovc 
free/ing-])oint.  and  to-day  the  whole  country  is  again 
buried    in    snow. 

We  ride  northwards  and  descend  from  a  small  saddle 
to  the  Chat.;  ik  tsangpo,  near  which  we  have  to  halt 
awhile  to  warm  ourselves  at  a  fire.  The  river  Ix-nds  to  the 
west-south-west  to  break  through  Kanchung-gangri.  On 
its  bank  i>  seen  a  tent,  eight  horses,  and  a  hundred  sheep. 
Pani  hor  went  olT  to-day  to  stalk  a  herd  of  ninety  wild  yaks, 
and  Xima  Tashi,  the  captain  of  the  Ixnlyguard,  was  sure 
that  a  roblx-T  band  was  in  the  tent,  for  no  nomads  are  seen 
in  this  col<l  country.  Tht  escort,  jjarticularly  Xima  Tashi, 
were  dreadfully  afraid  of  roblxTs;  and  Panchor  had  told 
us  that  we  could  mnke  them  go  anywhere  by  frightening 
the  soldiers  with  robk-rs.  When  Panchor  appeared  again, 
he  said  iliat  the  suspected  U  nt  wa'^  really  inhabited  by  the 
band  which  had  the  murder  in  Rukyok  on  its  conscience, 
and  he  added  that  if  the  people  in  Ruky  k  would  not  let 
the  matter  rest,  the  band  thrtatened  to  commit  nev  crimes 
in  the  country.  T  aski-d  why  the  authorities  did  not 
seize-  the  chief  now  when  he  was  s"  near,  but  Panchor 
shook   his  head   and   said   that  if   he  was  taken  and   killed. 


others    would 


down    on    the    countrv,    and    that 


374 


(I 


A 


^^H 

.  ;;.--ar_ 

^^^^^^^HBH| 

-r.^s^S-;;- 

sS&Zii^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^t 

MICROCO'^    RESOIUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  O'.d  ISO  TEb.    ^HART  No    ? 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


IM 

32 


III  2.5 

II  2.2 

2.0 


1.4   mil  1.6 


A       ■'■  "'PLIED  IfVVIGE     Inc 


"        I4609       L5* 
Phoflt 


ssim^r^^'*i;vc- •^^•- 


,  ,.  -U  L  Mt'y-<-  --C^  "At7«^->-^:  :^^^.^*|^-  -^'^^^-r 


',s 


w 


% 


<B-J?R. 


Hcili(.t;iy  Cnstmin-  aiul  OriKiiiK'Hi-  "i  Tilu'Mii   WMiiu-n 
I'i   Kv.mur.iiiL;   m   tin.'    Ir.iii--!  liMi.r.iy.i 


W.ilcr-iciidi.i   SkiUii' 


\\ 


¥ 


THE  HEAVENLY   LAKE 


375 


CHAP.    LXX 

would  be  worse.    A  bandit's  life  in  Tibet  is  on  the  whole 
a  very  pleasant  one.  ,, 

Following   the   stream   upwards  we   came   to   the   small 
lake   Lapchung-tso,   entirely   covered   with   ice,   and   sc    up 
camn   \oi   UlPil  ^^■<-'t)  ''"  il^  eastern  shore.     It  is  enclosed 
among  hills  and  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  lofty  mountains. 
To  the  south  Kanchung-gangri  appears  in  all  its  spkndour. 
The  snow  is  much  more  aVjundant  on  Us  northern  than  on 
its  southern  side,  and  in   the  hollows  Ix'tween  Us  summits 
three  large  and  several  small  glaciers,  short  and  steep,  arc 
seen      From  all  the   valleys  on  the   north,   north-west,   and 
north-east  brooks  descend   to  the  Lapchung-tso,   and   from 
"he    southern    cxtremitv    of    the    lake    the    Chaktak-tsangpo 
issues     and    a    little  "distance    farther    south-west    breaks 
through  Kanchung-gangri.  , 

May  Q      -o.Q°  at  this  time  of  year!    We  move  north- 
eastwards  along   the   eastern   shore   of    Lapchung-tso,    and 
follow   a   well-lK-aten  road   consisting   of   quite   fifty  para Uel 
paths.    It   is  verv  interesting  to  draw   another   line  on  the 
map    of    Til)et    through    a    part    unknown    before.    Here 
travel  the  merchants  whose  destination  is  east  Bongba  and 
Chokchu,   and   here  passes  a  large   part   of  the  salt   traffic 
from  Ta'bie-tsaka,   as' well   as  pilgrims  on  their  way  home 
from    Kang-rinpoche.    The    last    usually    follow    the    tasam 
onTheir  ou'tward  journey,  but  return  by  the  northern  route 
-  this  is,  that  the  whole  pilgrimage  may  make  a  kore  or  a 
loop  of  salvatioii.  , 

Our  direction  Ix^comes  now  more  northerly  and  we  go 
up    the    Sangmo-bertik    valley,    where    the    lx)ttom    is    fil  ed 
VN^th  ice  clear  as  glass,  but  there  is  good  pasturage  on  the 
Cks     The    country    is    quite   flat    'oebveen     Kanchung- 
gangri  and  the  main  crest  of  the  Trans-Hima  aya^    In  the 
fongitudinal   valley   Ix-tween   the   two   we   see   to   the   north 
60°  W.,  the  comparatively  low  saddle   Dicha-la    ^^hich  is 
however,    a   watershed    of   the    first    rank,   for    U    parts   the 
water  flowin"  to  the  ocean   from  the    isolated   drainage  of 
Te  "lat^u  "over  the   Dicha-la  runs  the  lat.y   mentioned 
road    to    the    Buptsang-tsangpo    and    Tabie-tsaka.     ^orth, 
n-.rth-uP.t     and    north-east    are    several    gangns    with    firn- 
fields   and   snow,   all   belonging   to   the   main    range   01    the 


I: 


HH 


■w: 


\\ 


h 


\ 


..i 


J  ^ 

r 


37^' 


^  RAXS-HIMALAYA 


'rrans-IIimalaya.  To  the  cast  lies  a  pass,  tht-  Xaklx)- 
kongdo  la,  with  the  .\aklx)-gongrong-gangri ;  over  this 
pass,  which  also  seems  to  lie  on  the  main  watershed,  a 
road  runs  to  Targo  <^an<^ri  and  Dangra-yum-tso.  Between 
Raga-tasam  and  Omho  a  road  crosses  the  Tsalam-naktada, 
mostly  frequented  by  >alt  caravans.  From  camp  402  we 
could  still  see  Chomo  uchonf;  to  the  south,  13°  K. 

A  member  of  the  roblxT  band  we  saw  the  day  Ix^fore 
paid  us  a  visit  and  was  evidently  an  old  friend  of  Panchor. 
He  gave  us  many  interestinj^  details  of  the  Teri-nam-tso 
and  Mendong  gompa,  which  were  afterwards  found  to  Ix' 
perfectly  correct.  I  never  could  make  out  Panchor.  Either 
he  was  in  league  with  the  devil  himself,  or  he  was  a  fully 
fledged  knave  at  his  own  risk  and  reckoning.  He  now 
assured  me  that  it  would  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
to  take  me  to  the  Teri-nam-tso  and  j)erhaps  also  to  the 
Dangra-yum  tso.  O  g<Hls  of  Xaktsang.  slumlxr  in  this 
cold  spring  and  do  not  warn  your  earthly  vassals  until  it  is 
too  late !  Ves,  if  I  could  only  contrive  to  cross  the  Trans- 
Himalaya  twice  more,  I  would  then  willingly  leave  this 
mighty  range  to  rest  a  thousand  years  under  a  veil  of 
clouds  and  glittering  snowfidds.  It  is  strange  that  this 
wide  country,  so  near  to  the  Indian  frontier,  should  have 
remained  abs(jlutely  unknown  till  our  late  times.  I  am 
proud  and  delighted  to  know  that  I  am  the  first  white  man 
to  penetrate  to  this  wilderness. 

Panchor  advi.sed  us  to  stay  a  day  in  the  valley,  for  we 
should  not  find  pasture  as  good  as  here  for  a  long  time.  I 
wondered  how  he  could  know  that,  .seeing  that  he  had  said 
recently  that  he  had  never  been  north  of  the  Sangmo- 
bertik-la. 

On  the  night  of  May  11  the  thermometer  fell  to  3°. 
We  found  ourselves  in  a  great  enlargement  of  the  Trans- 
Himalaya  called  Lap,  and  this  region  is  noted  for  its  severe 
climate.  Even  in  the  middle  of  summer,  when  it  is  warm 
everywhere  else,  it  is  cold  in  Lap.  The  ice  breaks  up  on 
La])chung-tso  only  in  the  beginning  of  June  after  all  the 
other  ice  is  melted.  From  the  map  it  is  seen  that  many 
considerable  rivers,  llowing  north  and  south,  lake  their  rise 
in  this  lofty  swell. 


-t   '  ■■'  ■  I- 


\\  ' 


mH 


[I  r! 


i 


il 


I.XX 


THE   HEAVENLY   LAKE 


377 


The  (lay's  march  took  us  up  to  higlKT  ground  aivl  tin- 

1  at  all,  but  a  track  wirKhng 


dreadful  —  not  a  roa( 


tc   l>ouldcrs  and   yak   moss.     And   ntxt   day   it 


way  was 

among   granite,    .^..^.v.^...  j 

was  still  worse.  In  raw  wintry  weather,  with  a  tenvera- 
ture  of  1.2°,  we  wound  w\)  the  ascent  extremely  slowly, 
where  all  small  and  loo.sc  material  had  lx.-en  removed,  so 
that  the  animals  might  at  any  moment  break  their  legs 
among  the  stones.  Here  no  other  vegetation  was  seen 
but  a  moss,  yellow  as  the  yolk  of  an  egg,  and  another 
shading  into  red.  On  the  left  we  pas.se(l  three  small 
glaciers  with  a  blue  tinge  on  their  fronts.  Ry  one  of  them 
some  wild  yaks  walke.l  meditatively.  The  weather  was  s<) 
c(jld  that  we  had  to  stop  freriuently  to  warm  our  hands  at 
a  small  dung  fire.  Panchor  insisted  .strongly  on  these 
halts  "ii:  order  that  the  Bombo  may  not  be  tired  ;  but  i 
suspect  it  was  chiefly  because  he  wanted  a  pulT  from  his 

Chinese  gansa. 

Though  it  was  a  great  struggle  for  our  horses,  we 
came  at  last  to  the  Sangmo-bertik-la,  at  the  giddy  height 
of  IQ.094  feet,  and  now  I  stoo<l  for  the  seventh  time  on 
the  main  crest  of  the  Trans- Himalaya  and  the  vyatershed 
of  the  great  Indian  rivers.  The  view  was  clo.sec  in  on  all 
sides  and  limited  by  adjacent  heights.  On  a  sharp  ndge 
to  the  north-west  seven  yaks  were  tramping  in  the  snow_ 
Panchor  and  one  of  the  soldiers  went  on  foot  in  pursuit  ot 
them  — to  mount  the.se  steep  hills  on  foot  and  carry  heav'v, 
clumsy  guns  is  tough  work.  We  rcxle  on  among  the 
granite  boulders;  lower  down  green  p<jrphyry  begins. 
The  gradient  became  more  gentle,  and  where  we  en- 
camped we  could  scarcely  perceive  in  which  direction  the 

valley  sloped.  .      , ,  ^-        i     „ 

The  day  had  been  stormy,  and  the  blast  contmued  on 
May  13.  Little  Puppy  went  out  to  look  at  the  morning, 
but  crept  back  again  and  lay  on  his  mat.  Takkar  was  still 
irreconcilable  towards  his  countrymen,  the  Tibetans,  and 
inspired  the  greatest  respect  in  all  the  escort  and  Panchor. 
We  rode  on  through  the  valley  northwards  past  numerous 
summer  camping-grounds,  and  recognized  the  characteristic 
low  rebel  01  Cnang-ta.ig  m  wHua...  .'■  '•--';---  r^'' 
excavated    valleys    on    the    southern    side    of    the     Irans- 


378 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


Himalaya.  At  the  mouih  of  a  sidi-  vallry  runninj^  in  from 
the  west  the  eseort  cami-  to  a  halt,  and  Xima  Ta^hi 
e.\|)hiine(i  ttiat  our  road  to  Hui)t6.  where  we  hail  agreed  to 
meet  Alxlul  Keriin's  j)arty,  ran  up  this  valley,  and  that  they 
did  not  intend  to  f^o  farther  north.  'Ihey  now  showeil 
their  teeth  for  the  first  time,  and  were  not  so  pliant  as  wc 
thou<,'ht.  They  excused  themselves  on  the  ^'round  that 
their  yaks  were  tired,  that  their  provisions  were  at  an  end, 
and  that  they  had  no  orders  to  accompany  us  more  than 
ffjurteen  days.  Panchor,  the  scoundrel,  took  their  part, 
and  frij^ditened  us  with  the  chief  of  Hon<,'l)a-chu>har,  who 
took  tribute  from  all  the  robbers  of  the  country,  ami  would 
certainly  jjlunder  us  if  we  jjasscd  through  his  domain. 
After  long  consideration  we  decided  to  camp  where  wc 
were  to  thoroughly  discuss  the  situation.  Before  the  sun 
had  set  I  had  won  them  over,  though  it  was  chiefly  the 
chink  of  silver  rupees  which  made  them  forget  all  their 
scruples.  It  was  agreed  that  they  should  receive  their 
20  rupees  every  evening,  and  I  gave  them  a  goat  in 
addition,   as   their   sui)i)ly  of   meat   was  at   an    end. 

So  on  May  14  we  nxle  farther  north  in  blinfling  snow, 
and  passed  numerous  luanis,  nine  standing  in  one  row. 
The  valley  became  more  open,  and  was  more  than  a  mile 
broad.  We  found  no  water  at  the  camp,  but  two  of  our 
yaks  were  laden  with  blocks  of  ice.  Every  evening  we 
sat  an  hour  conversing  with  Panchor,  and  it  was  easy  to 
check  his  statements.  I  told  him  once  for  all,  that  if  he 
did  not  speak  the  truth  he  would  receive  no  extra  gratuity. 
In  the  evening  he  declared  that  there  were  dreadful 
apparitions  at  Muhamed  Isa's  grave,  and  that  at  night 
fearful  shrieks  and  groans  could  be  heard  from  beneath. 
He  was  quite  convinced  that  .spirits  ..iid  demons  haunted 
the  grave,  and  said  that  no  Tibetan  ventured  to  go  near 
the  place;  this  was  well,  for  consequently  the  grave  would 
not  be  desecrated. 

He  gave  me  also  much  valuable  information  about  the 
country  round  Xam-tso  or  Tengri-nor,  where  he  was  born. 
He  had  gone  twice  round  Xam-tso,  thrice  round  Tso- 
mavang,  and  tvv'clve  times  iuund  Kaiig-iiiipodie,  wiiieh  he 
intended    to   visit   again    soon,    to   complete    the    thirteenth 


m 


;(i  I.       'I'll'     \  II  I    \'.l     111     1.1  N  k  \K. 


3^;.       (iKOLl'   l)K    TlllKrANS     \r    lllK     TKkl-N  \M  TSI). 


Ml 


IM 


TIIK    HIvWKN'LV    LAKK 


379 


rirruit  f.f   siilvatinn.     lie  ronsi.lcml  it  superfluous  to   make 


tin-    cirruit    o 


f    Dangni  yum  t^o    and    Targo-«anj;ri 


for    ht 


ha.l 


alrradv 


tram; 


)CH 


1    s.)    far    that    all    his    sins    must    h 


fori^ivcn, 
nation. 


till   hi"  was  suro  of  pronv 


)ti<)n   in  the  next  mcar- 


I'anrhor   had    net   the   slightest   doubt    that   a   man 
ir'horso  which   had  dnmk  of  the  water  of  Tso-mavang  or 

une   from   illness,   rohlxTs,   and 
fire    blazed    out    of    that 


Nam-tso   was 


wolve 


for 


ever 


imm 


It    is   just    as   tliouj^h    a 


1 


rt  of  the  IkkIv  where  the  wolf  intern 


is  to  seize  him,"  he 


iTirmed.     But     he     i 


nsidiTablv     modified     his     statements 


,11111  llll.<  I.  I*  HI  "^  ,  1     ■      1        1  1         I  1 

after  I  had  told  him  that  we  had  a  mule  whieh  had  <lrunt 
f..r  a  whole  month  of  the  water  of  Tso-mavans  an(l  yet 
had  Ix-en  torn  in  pieres  by  wolves  at  (iartok.  "\cs,  he 
rei.lied,  "the-  protection  is  only  for  TilKnans  and  their 
animals,  not  for  F.uropeans  and  their  animals.  And  if  the 
wolf  itself  drank  of  the  holy  water  it  would  avail  nothing; 
he  would  still  seize  his  prey."  _      ^ 

The  15th  of  Mav  we  set  out  again  in  a  snowstorm, 
wheieas  Thad  been  looking  forward  ever  since  January  to 
spring.  It  caused  great  merriment,  both  among  the 
Tibetans  and  the  I.adakis,  when  one  of  the  escort  who  did 
not  know  Kunchuk's  name,  spoke  of  him  as  ''that  there 
calf"  We  had  travelled  a  goenl  long  way  l)cfore  they 
ceased  to  laugh  at  the  newly  invented  title,  which  stuck  to 
Kum  huk  ever  after. 

The    valley    opens    out    on    to    a    plain  where  kiangs, 

Goa    and    Pantholops    antelopes    arc    plentiful.     From    the 

ridge    of    a    hill    we    see    to    the    east    another    still    larger 

plain,   Ix-vond   which   Targo-gangri   would   be   visible   if  the 

mountain'  were   not   shrouded    in   clouds   and    falling   snow. 

Buchu-tso    is    a    small    pool    which    dries    up    in    summer. 

There   lay   three   black   tents,   and    fjeyond    another   hill   in 

the   locality    Kangmar,    seven.    When    we   encamped,    si.xty 

men,    women,    and    children    came    out    and    watched    us. 

They   had    gathereo    together   here    to   pay    their   taxes   to 

a    collr>ctor    from    Saka.    The    district    is    called    Bongba- 

chushar,  and  the  e'derly  gova  came  to  visit  us.     He  was  a 

discreet    man    and    put    no    awkward    (luestions.     I  anchor 

who  was  aec  u^loiViCtl   to  run    wiui   uiv   hci-.Q  an..    !ij..i   wi..i 

the    hounds,    had    probably    given    him    an    account   of    us 


w 


3,So 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


!•' 


I   I 


I      t 


r        'I 


I.  I 


1:1 


f  :i 


beforchancl._  It  scorns  he  was  tcrril)lv  fnVhtcnod.  for  he 
had  never  in  his  Hfe  seen  a  Kuropran.  However,  he  Rave 
us  much  vahial.Ie  information  about  the  country,  anion^r 
other  things  that  the  Uttle  twin  hikes  Mun-t^o  lav  lo  thC 
no.-th  ot  the  Barony  hi  and  east  of  the  Teri-nam-tso,  not 
south  of  the  Dangra-yum-tso  as  on  Xain  Sing's  man. 
which  I  had  myself  f,;und  to  he  incorrect.  On  the  way  to 
the  leri-nam-tso  we  .should  he  able  in  two  places  to  steal 
goose  eggs;  it  was  forbidden  to  tlie  Tibetans  for  three 
years  to  take  them,  but  a  European  could  permit  himself 
anything  without  having  to  answer  for  it  to  the  gods  of 
heaven  and  earth. 

After  a  day's  re>^t  we  marched  north-north-cast  to  the 
broa.l  longitudinal  valley  of  Sonia-tsangpo.  The  river 
descends  from  the  east-south-ea.st,  an<i  probably  has  its 
source  in  the  great  mountain  system  we  .saw 'from  the 
hhuru-tso.  Here  it  runs  west-north  west.  Init  afterwarls 
turns  north  and  north-eastwards,  and  therefore  makes  a 
sharp  curve  betore  it  enters  the  Teri-nam-t.so.  Its  berl  is 
tlat  and  .shallow,  and  at  the  time  carried  down  about  -80 
cubic  feet  of  water  per  .sec(K-<l.  but  it  is  s<,  full  in  summer  thnt 
sometimes  it  cannot  be  forded.  We  camped  at  a  snr,  1- 
in  a  yalley  at  the  farther  side,  and  on  May  18  ascended 
he  adjacent  pa.ss  I).,ngchen-la,  and  on  it^  south  slopes 
twenty-four  Ovis  Ammon  .sheep  were  a  fine  .sicrht 

On  the  night  of  the  19th.  the  minimum  temperature  ^vas 
2g.5  .  an.l  now  It  felt  as  if  spring  were  really  come,  or 
even  summer.  I  he  way  ran  north-west  up  a  steep  yalley 
where  granite  an.l  dark  schists  were  twice  obseryed  in  .situ 
o  the  small  ,.ass  Teta-h.  (16.266  feet),  where  we  had  a^ 
length  a  free  view  over  the  longed-for  lake  Teri-nam-t.so. 
•Nam  Sings  I  ede-nam-tso.  which  he  never  visited  nor  saw, 
but  only  heard  of.  and  in.serted  with  a  broken  line  quite 
correctly  on  his  map.  The  only  mistake  he  made  was  to 
<lra\\    the  lake  longer  from    north  to  south  instead  of  from 

To  obtain  an  uninterrupted  view  we  climbed  up  a  height 
nn     he    north    side    of    the    pa.ss    (16.07.    ^m).     ihe    scene 

liere    di.splayed    in    all    directions    wns   on,.    ,.f   »i,o    ... .. 

and    mo.st  memorable  taljleaus   I   have  seen   in   Tilx^t".'"' The 


i'^il 


THE   HEAVENLY   LAKE 


381 


'•heavenly  lake"  lay  like  a  great  flat-cut  turquoise  framed 
in  mountains  and  hills  shaded  in  pink,  red,  yellow,  and 
purple,  which,  towards  the  horizon,  gradually  passed  into 
a  light  blue  veil.  Only  to  the  south-east  quadrant  is  the 
view  obstructed  by  adjacent  heights  belonging  to  the  chain 
on  the  crest  of  which  we  stand,  and  which  runs  along  the 
southern  shore  of  the  lake,  but  elsewhere  the  view  is  open, 
fli/./.y,  boundless,  and  the  eyes  scan  Ijoth  Sha-kangsham's 
majestic  peak  and  Targo-gangri's  many-headed  ridge, 
and  the  seven  times  mounted  main  range  of  the  Trans- 
Himalaya,  with  its  snow-crowned  heights  rising  in  a  row 
(jf  bright  white  domes  to  the  south.  Many  other  peaks 
and  domes  with  eternal  snow  rise  over  this  sea  of  tumbled 
waves,  but,  after  all,  the  finest  sight  is  the  lake  itself,  which 
charms  and  fascinates  the  spectator  by  its  intense  ultra- 
marine hue,  a  couple  of  shades  deeper  and  stronger  than 
turquoise.  When  one  first  comes  to  the  saddle  of  the 
pa.ss  and  this  wealth  of  colouring  strikes  the  retina,  one 
can  scarcely  restrain  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  and 
admiration.  We  look  down  straight  on  the  lake,  and  its 
southern  shore  is  just  below  us.  To  the  west  it  extends 
for  two  days'  journey,  and  widens  out  enormously,  while  to 
the  east  it  contracts  and  seems  to  stretch  a  good  day's 
journey.  Due  north-east  the  blue  surface  is  broken  by 
a  steep  rocky  i.slet,  with  a  level  shore  only  in  the  east,  and 
farther  cast  one  fancies  one  can  detect  the  hollow  where 
the  basin  of  the  Dangra-yum-tso  skirts  the  northern  foot 
of  the  divine  Targo-gangri  mountain. 

Beautiful  weather,  not  a  cloud  on  the  blue  vault  of 
heaven,  calm  and  quiet,  only  the  gentlest  whisper  over  the 
hills  sounding  in  the  ears  like  the  tinkle  of  small  bells  and 
the  vibration  of  strings.  One  feels  overwhelmed  by  this 
grand  beauty,  which  speaks  more  {K)werfully  to  the  senses 
than  the  high  mass  of  any  archbishop.  I  stood  several 
hours  up  here  and  made  a  hopeless  attempt  to  sketch  the 
landscape,  but  succeeded  in  producing  only  a  feeble  imita- 
tion of  the  reality.  From  the  Teta-la  one  commands  a  very 
considerable  area  of  the  heart  of  Tibet.  How  extensive 
i>.  the  line  of  Sh;i-kan2sham. !  How  many  arc  the  points 
from    which    I    have    viewed    this    wonderful    mountain    on 


fl 


\\ 


\l 


"  I 


!     i 


(I   ii 


I   ,1 


jSj 


TRAXS-IILMALAVA 


CHAP. 


diflercnt  journeys!  Like  a  gigantic  beacon,  a  marvellous 
landmark,  it  raises  its  snow-covered  dome  above  deso- 
late Tibet.  And  we  were  far  from  its  drijjiiing  glaciers 
when  for  the  last  time  it  sank  below  the  horizon  like  a 
dream  of  snow  and  roses. 

At  last  we  had  to  drag  ourselves  away  and  follow  the 
track  of  the  other  men  to  a  little  drearv  valley  where  they 
had  encamped  near  a  couple  of  tents.  Even  here  the  view 
was  remarkable.  How  I  now  missed  my  old  tried  lx)at, 
and  how  gladly  I  would  have  glicJed  with  "sail  and  oar  over 
the  heavenly  lake ! 

We   remained    four   whole   days   at   this   miserable  camp 
with  its  fine  view  (15,646  feet).     The  fact  was  that  Dangra- 
yum-tso    now    for    the    fourth    time    began    to    haunt    my 
dreams,  and  as  the  holy  lake  was  only  four  days'  journey 
to   the   east,    I    would    try   to   reach   its   shore.     But   Xima 
Ta.shi  and  Panchor  put  all  kinds  of  dilTiculties   in  the  way: 
their  yaks  would   perish   where  there  was  no  grazing,   and 
It  Wiis  impossible  to  hire  yaks,  for  all    had    lately    gone  to 
Tabie-tsaka  for  .salt.     I  j)ro{)osed   to  go  on  my  own  horses 
and    meet    them    at    Mendong-gompa    after    the    e.xcursion, 
and   to  this  they  made  no  objection  at  first.     If  I  had  not 
been    by   this   time    heartily   sick   of   Tibet,    I    would    have 
played  them  a  pretty  trick,  and  gone  not  only  to  Dangra- 
yum-t.so,   but   farther  eastwards  until    I   was  stopped.     But 
I    was    weary    of    geography,    disc.n-cries,  and    adventures, 
and   wanted   to  get  home.     And   besides,  on  comparing  the 
lands  east  and   west  of  the  Teri-nam-t.so.   I  considered   the 
latter  far  better  worth  visiting.     The  former  I  had  traversed 
by  three   routes,   and   two  other  travellers  had    been   there, 
but   no  one   had   been   in   the  west,   and   wc  knew  nothing 
about  it  e.xcept  the  uncertain  data  which  the    Jesuits    had 
gathered    from    the    natives    two    hundred    vears    ago.     In 
fact    this   land    was    the    least    known    part  'of    Tibet,    and 
the    road    to   the    Xganglanng-tso   cros.ses    the    blank  patch 
m     Its    longer     direction.     If    the     authorities    had     asked 
me   which   way   I   would   choose,    I   should   have   answered, 
the    way    to     the   Xganglaring-iso.     It     would     have    l)cen 
wisest    to    rlo.se    at    nnro    with     \i'r.-..i     'r.>.i,;'..    .....,...,,:.. ^ 

to   go    straight    to    ^^endong-gompa.     But    their   opposition 


^|M:     v4?r:V;i.w, 


^()'i.     'liil.    \ni,\..i.   >'i    l.iskvk    iKcr.i    I  HI.    Ii.Mrii     llii.i. 


3'i;.       ThK    SoLlllKKN    MlilKK    UV    \\  \\\>  \Kn\\  \K    \M1II    (iK\ZlN'.    \\KS. 


I   '1 


tl  il 


H  i 


1 


I 


LXX 


THE  HEAVENLY   LAKE 


383 


eeeed  me  on  to  break  another  lance  for  Dangra-yum-tso 
I   ought   to  have   rememlxred   that   he   who  grasps   at    all 
loses  all,  for  I  was  within  an  ace  of  losing  Mendong  gompa 
into  the  bargain.  ,  , ,  , 

For  when  Nima  Tashi  saw  that  he  could  not  make  me 
eive  way,  he  secretly  sent  a  message  to  Tagla-Tsenng,  the 
chief  of  Sangge-ngamo-buk,  the  district  we  were  m  and 
which  is  subject  to  Naktsang.  And  Tagla-Tsenng  came^ 
Last  year  he  had  been  in  Lundup's  train  when  the  latter  had 
stopped  us  at  the  foot  of  Targo-gangri  and  prevented  us 
from  going  to  *he  shore  of  the  holy  lake  Now  he  looked 
very  grand  a.  important.  Over  a  mantle  of  panther  skm 
he  wore  a  belt  of  six  bright  silver  gaos,  and  in  the  belt  was 
stuck  a  sword  with  a  silver  scabbard  inlaid  with  turquoise 
and  coral,  and  at  his  side  rattled  knives  and  other  pendent 
articles.  Over  all,  he  wore  a  long  reddish-violet  mantle 
and  on  his  head  a  Chinese  silk  cap.  He  was  accompanied 
by  six  horsemen,  and,  the  day  after,  twenty  more  arrived 
all  armed  to  the  teeth  with  guns,  swords,  and  lances;  a 
in  picturesque  bright -coloured  costumes,  some  with  tall 
brimmed  hats  on  their  heads,  others  with  bandages  round 
their  foreheads.  Tagla-Tsering  evidently  took  the  matter 
seriously,  and  tried  to  get  over  me  by  talking  of  raising  the 
militia  (Illustration  329).  ^    r  •     ji 

The  powerful  chief  meanwhile  entered  my  tent,  friend  y 
and  pleased,  and  like  an  old  friend,  bade  "f  hra».tily 
welcome,  and  expressed  his  great  astomshment  that  1  had 
come  back  again,  though  I  had  been  forced  the  year  tg  ore 
to  turn  back.  Had  I  not  already  brought  about  Hlaje 
Tsering's  fall,  and  would  I  cause  the  new  Governor  of 
Naktsang  to  meet  the  same  fate?    Or  what  did  I  mean? 

"No,  Hedin  Sahib,  you  cannot  travel  to  Naktsang. 
Turn  to  the  west.  Nima  Tashi  had  no  authority  to  lead 
you  even  to  the  Teri-nam-tso;  it  was  on  the  Buptsang- 
tsangpo  you  were  to  meet  the  caravan.  You  talk  ot 
Mendong-gompa.  You  have  no  right  to  travel  thither. 
There  is  a  nearer  way  to  the  rendezvous.  Mendong- 
gompa  does  not  lie  in  my  district,  but  all  the  same  I  have 
^nt  written  notices  to  all  the  govas  in  the  country  to  stop 
you  if  you  travel  to  the  monastery." 


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384 


TRANS-HJMALAVA 


CHAP.    I.XX 


Poor  Nima  Tashi  was  half  dead  with  fright.  He  had 
thought  to  frighten  me,  but  now  he  saw  that  the  chief  and 
I  sat  together  like  old  friends,  firinking  tea  and  smoking 
cigarettes,  while  he  was  reprimanded  for  bringing  me 
too  far.  I  told  him  afterwards  that  he  was  a  noodle,  and 
If  he  now  got  into  trouble  in  Saka  it  was  his  own  fault. 
1  agla- 1  senng  s  good  humour  was  much  enhanced  when  I 
promised  to  turn  back  and  conform  to  the  arrangements  of 
the  chiefs  on  the  way  to  Mendong,  if  by  any  chance  I  was 
prevented   from   approaching  the   convent. 

We  said  farewell  on  May  24  and  continued  our  journey 
westwards  along  the  .southern  shore  of  the  lake  The 
water  IS  salt    and   has  an  extremely  unpleasam   taste,   and 

rr«fi  f  \  •  """"  '"  ''">'  circumstances.  Lamlung-la 
(10,880  feet)  is  a  commanding  pass,  which  must  Ix.-  crossed 
o  cut  on  a  peninsula  The  rocks  are  granite  and  green 
sch  s  .  Hares  and  wild-geese  are  verv  plentiful.  Here 
and  there  are  freshwater  lagoons  on  the  sh.^re,  which  forms  ' 
a  very  narrow  k'lt  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  The 
northern  shore  k'lt  seems  to  be  much  broader.  We 
follovved  the  southern  shore  another  dav  to  the  sprin-' 
Icrtsi  at  the  western  extremity  of  the  lake,  which  forms 
a  Jargc  regular  expansion. 

I  heard  the  name  of  this  lovely  lake  variously  pro- 
nounced by  duTerent  nomads.  Xain  Sing's  Tede-nam  tso 
IS  mcorrect.  The  Gova  of  Kangmar  insLsted  that  Tsari? 
nam-tso  was  the  correct  pronunciation,  and  said  that  the 
nanie  was  bestowed  lx>cause  ri  di  tsa-la  tso  yore,  that  is, 
The  lake  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain."  The' 
nomads  on  the  shore,  however,  said  Tiri-  or  Teri-nam-tso 
;nn""VT^  411  were  two  small  mountains  on  the  shore! 
called  Tcchen  and  Techung,  or  the  Great  and  Little  Te 
or  morecorrectlv  Ti.  Ti  is  a  lama's  throne  in  a  temple' 
n  signihes  mruntain,  nam  heaven,  and  tso  lake  The' 
whole  name  therefore  has  the  poetical  meaning  of  the 
Throne-mountain's  Heavenly   Lake.     Its    height    above    sea- 

TuV^'^vV'T'  °'"  ^''^  ^'''   '"^^•^'-   than    Mont    Blanc 
which    If  It   lifted  up  its  head  from  the  turquoise  billows  of 
the  lake,  would  look  like  the  small  rocky  islet  in   its  eastern 


SHb 


CHAPTER  LXXI 

ANOTHER  JOURNEY   ACROSS   THE   WHITE   PATCH 

We  left  on  Mav  26  the  heavenly  lake,  the  shore  of  which 
had  never  before  been  trodden  by  European  or  pundit,  and 
saw  its  blue  s'lrface  diminish  to  a  sabre  blade  between  the 
mountains,  and  finally  disappear  in  the  east,  while  we  rode 
westwards  over  a  wide  i)lain,  which  was  formerly  under 
water.  Kutus,  Lobsant,',  and  Panchor  accompanied  me. 
We  must  hasten  to  descend  on  the  monastery  Ix-forc  the 
monks  got  wind  of  us,  and  the  caravan  and  escort  could 
come  after  and  encamp  near  Mendong-gompa.  Panchor 
disappeared  at  the  first  tent  we  passed,  and  was  not  seen 
again  all  day.  He  was  a  coward,  and  did  not  wish  to  be 
suspected  of  showing  us  the  way  to  the  sanctuary.  We 
had  therefore  to  shift  for  ourselves  and  find  our  way 
thither. 

Two  men  and  a  woman  came  out  of  a  nomad  encamp- 
ment to  the  track  we  followed,  and  asked  if  we  had  seen 
the  European  who  was  said  to  be  travelling  about  Bongba. 
In  order  to  preserve  my  incognito  till  I  came  to  Mendong, 
I  answered  that  he  was  coming  lx.hind  with  his  caravan, 
and  if  they  kept  on  the  look  out  they  would  see  an  amusing 
figure.  Probably  they  had  long  given  up  all  hope  of  seeing 
the  stranger.  My  involuntary  disguise  therefore  did  me 
good  service,  for  the  nomads  took  me  to  be,  like  the  other 
two  men,  servants  of  the  expected  European. 

Hour  after  hour  we  rode  on  westwards  and  looked  in 
vain  for  a  monastery.  But  at  last  it  cropped  up  all  of  a 
sudden.  Wc  were  on  liie  top  of  a  i;anr:  terrace  30  icct 
high,  skirting  on  the  cast  the  channel  of  the  Soma-tsangpo, 

VOL.  II  3«5  »f^ 


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386 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAT. 


and  saw  at  the  foot  of  the  oppiosite  terrace  the  quadrangular 
stone-  house  of  the  monastery  with  its  white  walls  and  red 
frieze,    chhortcns,    mani   heaps,    and    streamers,  and    on  the 
east  and  west  of    it    two    tent  \-illages,  the  upper  inhabited 
by  Mxty  monks,  the    lower  by  forty  nuns  (Illustration  360). 
The   Soma  tsangpo,   also   called   Xyagga,   or   Soma-Nyagga- 
tsangpo,  now  carried  down  350  to  420  cubic  feet  of  water, 
which,  divided   into   four  channels,  glided   over  a   treacher- 
ously deepening    liottom.     We    managed,    however,    to   ford 
It.   and   rode   up   to  the  gate  of  the  monastery,  where  ten 
monks,    good  naturtd    but    reserved,    met    us.     I    have    no 
space    to   dcscrilx.'    the    religious   organization   of   Mendong- 
gompa.      It   is   enough   to   say  that   hitherto   it   was  quite 
unknown  even  by  name,  like  so  many  of  the  convents  we 
visited  the  year  Ix-fore.     The  peculiarity  of  this  monastery 
IS   that    the    brothers   and    sisters   live   in    black   tents,   and 
every  tent  is  a  cell.     The  tents  had  a  very  comfortable  and 
attractive  appearance,  but  the  sisters,  of  whom  I  took  some 
portraits,   were  hideous  to   behold  —  old   unwashed   harpies 
barbarous  and  demoralized.     That  there  is  anything  idyllic 
and  fascinating  in  life  in  a  nunnery  in  the  wilds  is  a  pure 
illusion,   which   vanishes  at   once  at   the  sight  of  these  old 
apes.    They   have   aLso    a    puzzling   resemblance    to    their 
male  colleagues,  and  it  is  often  difficult  to  decide  whether 
one  of  them  is  a  man  or  a  woman  (Illustration  354). 

When  we  left  the  solitary  monastery  on  May  28  we 
decided  to  make  for  the  rendezvous  on  the  Bup«sang- 
t.sangpo,  where  Abdul  Kcrim  would  no  doubt  be  uneasy  at 
our  prolonged  absence.  It  had  been  arranged  that'  we 
should  be  separated  only  two  weeks,  but  before  we  reached 
the  river  a  whole  month  wou  d  have  passed  away. 

So  we  set  out  early,  followed  the  right  bank  of  the 
Soma-tsangpo  southwards,  and  crossed  the  range  from  the 
top  of  which  at  the  Teta-Ia,  we  had  first  seen  the  Teri-nam- 
tso.  The  valley  is  quite  2J  miles  broad,  the  strand  terraces 
arc  well  developed,  the  fall  is  slight,  and  the  rush  of  water 
is  seldoni  heard;  here  and  there  stands  a  tent  with  grazing 
flocks.  One  more  sunrise  and  we  ride  through  the  river 
(Illustration  3'58),  which  with  fhf.  Sach-i-t=on„n<i  B—* 
sang-tsangpo,   and   Bogtsang-tsangpo   shares  the  "honour'^of 


^.;'A^:^'^'  ■' 


CHAT. 


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J. 

LXXI 


ACROSS   THE   WHITE    PATCH 


387 


being  one  of  the  largest  in  the  interior  of  Tibet.  Through 
the  valley  Goa-lung  we  rode  up  on  May  30  to  the  pass 
Goa-la  (17,382  feet),  flat  and  easy,  lying  amidst  pink  and 
grey  granite,  and  affording  an  instructive  view  over  the 
Trans- Himalaya  to  the  south.  To  the  south  west  we  sec, 
close  Ix-low  th'^  pass,  the  small  lake  Karong  tso  —  a  new- 
discovery,  like  everything  else  in  this  country.  Our  route 
ran  to  the  west,  when  we,  on  June  i,  rode,  with  the 
Karong-tso  on  our  left  hand,  and  a  crest  of  mediun-. 
height  on  our  right,  through  the  district  Bongbakemar, 
following  the  great  route  of  the  salt  caravans  Vxtween 
Raga-tasam  and  Tabie-tsaka,  which  crosses  the  already  men- 
tioned pass  Tsalam-nakta-la.  A  highroad  from  Naktsang 
joins  this.  At  camp  417  we  had  the  Chunit-tso  near  us 
on  the  north-west. 

Although  we  were  at  the  l)eginning  of  June,  the 
minimum  sank  below  freezing-point;  in  the  night  of  the 
ist  the  thermometer  fell  to  16.3°.  But  the  day  \vas  warm, 
nay  hot,  when  the  sun  shone  and  the  air  was  still.  The 
dreary  barren  valleys  lay  waiting  for  the  rainy  season. 
The  grass  was  more  than  scanty,  for  last  summer  the  rains 
failed.  Our  direction  turned  more  to  the  south-w 
From  camp  418  we  saw,  to  the  south,  60°  E.,  the  openi 
of  a  valley  through  which  a  highway  runs  throug.. 
Bongba-kyangrang  over  the   Dicha-la  to   LafKhung. 

Our  Tibetans  know  excellently  well  how  to  look  after 
themselves  on  the  journey.  On  the  march  they  twist 
string,  talk,  sing  and  whistle,  and  shout  at  their  yaks.  In 
pitching  their  camp  they  set  up  their  black  tent  in  a 
moment,  first  stretching  out  the  ropes  and  fastening  them 
into  the  ground  with  wooden  pegs,  and  then  throwing  the 
cloth  over  the  poles.  The  animals  are  unloaded  and  sent 
ofl  to  feed,  and  the  men  gather  fuel  and  make  a  fire  in  the 
tent,  where  all  assemble  to  drink  tea  and  sleep.  After 
a  couple  of  hours  they  come  out  again,  wrestle,  play  and 
laugh.  In  the  dusk  one  may  be  heard  singing  a  monoto- 
nous ballad,  which  must,  however,  be  amusing,  for  the 
others  laugh  heartily  at  every  verse.  Morning  and  even- 
ing they  gabble  their  prayers,  all  together,  murmuring  like 
bees  in  a  hive.    An  old  man,  whom  I  knew  the  year  before, 


•1 


I  J 

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A«»l« 


II 


3S« 


TRAXS-HIMALAVA 


CBAP. 


has  a  riding  yak  of  his  own,  and  hranrh'shcs  the  escort's 
prayer  mill.  IK'  i-,  never  mth  without  this  ingenious 
instrument.  The  men  are  always  ^(mxI  natured  and  polite, 
help  us  to  eolkct  fuel,  .set  up  the  tents  and  load  the  animals, 
and  lr((|utntly  pay  us  a  visit.  \\\-  know  them  all  by  name 
and  are  the  he.-t  of  friends. 

The  temperature  sank  in  the  nit,'ht  only  a  few  depees 
Ix'low  free/in-,'  point,  and  yet  a  snowstorm  raged  almost  all 
day  long  (.n  June  3.  We  rode  j)ast  a  large  marsh  in  the 
valley  and  up  to  the  flat  saddle  Merke  sang,  with  a  view 
over  the  i)lain  we  crossed  e.xartly  two  months  Ixfore  on 
the  way  to  the  Huf)tsang  tsangiKj.  Camp  4iy  lav  therefore 
in  the  Hongha  kehyang  district  again.  To  the 'south-east 
IS  the  pass  Chiptu  la,  with  the  pilgrim  route  from  Xakchu 
to  Kang  riniK)che.  To  the  .s(,uth.  27°  W.,  rises  a  snowy 
summit,  at  the  foejt  of  which  a  road  Kads  over  tlu-  Dsalung- 
la  to  Tradum.  As  a  watershid  this  pass  is  ol  the  first  rank, 
and  it  sends  oil  a  voluminous  tributary  to  the  Huptsang- 
tsangiK).  The  escort  sent  ofT  a  messenger  in  advance  to 
this  river  to  look  out  for  Alxlul  Kerim's  party. 

June  4.  It  had  snowed  all  night  long,  and  we  set  out 
in  the  wildest  snowstorm.  It  was  half  dark,  with  heavy 
leaden  clouds;  not  a  glimpse  could  be  seen  of  the  surround- 
ing mountains;  all  was  wet.  muddy,  and  evil  smelling; 
pools  of  melting  snow  lay  on  the  ground,  and  seven 
pilgrims  from  Kang  rini)ochc  were  close  upon  us  before 
they  emerged  from  the  mist.  WV  splashed  through  the 
soaked  soil,  but  when  we  encamped  on  the  shore  of  the 
Buptsang-tsangpo  the  weather  was  much  clearer. 

Before  I  jjroceed  further  I  will  mention  that  the  great 
province  of  Hongba  is  divided  into  twelve  tso  or  districts 
namely:  Parryang,  Laktsang,  Bupto,  Tsaruk.  Yeke,  Tarok' 
Kebvang,  Kemar,  Parma,  Changma,  Kvangrang,  and 
C  hushar.  To  each  of  these  district  names  is  usually  pre- 
lixed  the  name  of  the  pro\ince,  as,  for  instance,  Bongha- 
parryang,  Bongba-laktsang,  etc.  We  were  now  in  Bongba- 
kebyang.  " 

Some  tents  stood  _  on  the  river  bank.  The  nomads 
rcpurteu  that  Abdui  Kerim  had  gone  a  week  before  by  a 
cross-cut  over  the  mountain  on  the  right,  down  towards  the 


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LXXI 


ACROSS   THE  WHITE    PATCH 


389 


Tarok-tso.  There  was  no  gova  here,  but  two  natives  were 
ready  to  let  us  on  hire  the  five  yaks  wc  required.  They 
were  shy  and  timorous,  but  Panchor,  the  rogue,  spoke  well 
of  us,  and  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  accompany  us  to 
the  boundary  of  Tarok-tso.  On  the  morning  of  June  5 
we  took  farewell  of  Nima  Tashi  and  his  soldiers  and  of 
Panchor,  and  rode  between  the  hills  on  the  left  side  of  the 
valley  down  the  course  of  the  Buptsang-tsangpo.  Soon 
the  valley  contracted  to  a  ditch,  but  before  long  expanded 
again.  On  our  left  hand  we  had  the  main  range  of  the 
Trans-Himalaya,  which,  however,  did  not  present  an  im- 
posing apjK-arance,  for  we  were  always  close  to  its  foot. 
.\i  times  we  were  enveloped  in  a  snowstorm,  and  at  Mabie- 
tangsam-angmo,  where  we  camped,  we  made  haste  to  get 
a  cover  over  our  heads.  When  Little  Puppy  heard  the 
thunder  rumble  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  was  very 
disturbed  and  barked  with  all  his  might,  but  he  could  not 
make  out  whence  the  .nois-c  came,  and  he  found  it  safest  to 
fly  into  the  tent  and  hide  himself  Ix'hind  my  bed-head. 

June  6.  Hail  and  snow!  The  whole  country  is  hidden 
under  newly  fallen  snow,  as  far  as  we  can  see.  Is  June  to 
be  reckoned  among  the  winter  months?  We  have  already 
had  nine  of  them.  It  seems  as  though  summer  were 
missed  out  this  year  and  we  were  approaching  another 
winter.  But  the  precipitation  is  welcome  to  the  nomads, 
for  it  promotes  the  growth  of  fresh  grass.  We  march 
sometimes  on  the  top,  sometimes  at  the  foot  of  a  lofty 
erosion  terrace  80  to  100  feet  high,  which  is  a  characteristic 
feature  in  this  large  valley.  Geese,  wild  asses,  Goa  ante- 
lopes, and  fo.xes  arc  ever>'^vhere.  A  sharp  bend  in  the 
river  forces  us  to  the  north-north-east  for  a  time,  and  the 
valley  is  again  narrow  and  picturesque.  At  Tuta,  which 
l)elongs  to  Bongba-tsaruk.  we  encamp  close  by  the 
Buptsang-tsangpo,  where  the  wild-geese  swim  with  their 
yellow  chicks  in  the  clear  water. 

Eighteen  degrees  of  frost  on  the  night  of  June  7.  Yet 
the  day  was  fine,  and  tlies,  gnats,  and  other  insects  were  more 
numerous  than  before.  As  on  the  two  preceding  days 
v.e  crossed  several  small  affiuents  from  the  Trans-Himalaya. 
The    Buptsang   valley   e.xpanded    more    and    more,    and   at 


390 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAl 


ii;, 


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I      '! 


kn^th  became  13  miles  broad.  We  encamped  in  sight  0 
the  Tarok-tso,  on  a  level  plain  alxiut  16  feet  above  thi 
surface  of  the  lake,  and  with  two  nomad  tents  as  ou 
neare'^t   ncighlxours.     The   height   here   \.as   15,197   feet. 

Our  guides  were  the  pleasantcst  and  most  complacen 
we  had  ever  had,  our  movements  were  not  controllec 
by  chiefs  and  soldiers,  and  Karma  Puntso's  camp  was  fa 
awriy  —  we  might  have  travelled  wherever  we  liked.  Bu 
the  Buptsang  tsangpo  and  the  Tarok-tso  were  the  mos 
interesting  geographical  features  in  Bongba,  and  now  W( 
saw  the  lake  close  in  front  of  us. 

Our  plan  was  to  make  on  June  8  for  Lunkar-gompa 
which  was  seen  perched  on  its  hill  with  a  view  over  th( 
lake.  But  it  was  not  to  Ix',  for  at  six  o'clock  Gova  Pens; 
arrived  on  horseback  accompanied  by  two  servants.  H( 
as  dressed  in  a  bku  handsome  cloak,  looked  about  fifty 
live  years  old,  and  greeted  us  in  a  kind  and  friendly  manner 
After  a  while  came  half  a  dozen  more  horsemen  —  evidentl; 
we  were  held  up  again.  Gova  Pensa  asked  us  to  remair 
where  we  were  for  the  day,  for  Gova  Parvang,  the  distric 
chief  of  Tarok-shung,  would  come  in  the  aftcrr.oon.  H( 
said  it  was  impossible  to  sec  Lunkar-gompa,  for  both  th( 
head  lamas,  with  most  of  the  other  twenty  monks,  wen 
gone  two  days  before  to  Kang-rinpoche,  and  had  left  th( 
temple  gates  locked.  Only  four  nuns  and  two  monks  hac 
been  left  behind.  Of  Abdul  Kerim's  party  he  only  knev 
that  they  had  met  Gova  Parvang,  but  did  not  know  when 
they  were  now. 

Gova  Parvang  did  not  put  in  an  appearance,  but  sen 
instead  his  lieutenant,  old  Yamba,  and  seventeen  othei 
unarmed  men  to  my  tent.  Yamba  had  orders  not  to  let  u: 
go  to  Tabie-tsaka  if  he  valued  his  head.  But  he  added  tha 
if  we  went  there  of  our  own  accord  and  with  our  own  horse: 
he  could  not  stop  us.  but  yaks  and  provisions  would  notb( 
supj)lie(l,  and  the  nomads  had  orders  to  avoid  us  like  thi 
plague.  Would  we,  on  the  other  hand,  go  up  a  valle) 
which  <Ji)ened  out  to  the  south-south-west  by  which  w( 
could  reach  Tuksum  in  seven  davs  over  the  Lungnak-la 
:!v  \'. i;t;iu  Ki  tir.  iiifi-  v;iK^,  vVuUiu  seii  U5  proviSions,  anc 
provide    us    with    guides.     Or    if    we    would   go   over    th( 


ACROSS  THE   VVIIITE    PATCH 


391 


Lunkar-la  north-westwards  to  Sclipuk,  he  would  also  do 
his  best  to  serve  us.  He  advised  us  to  take  the  latter 
route,  for  he  had  been  present  when  Gova  Parvang  forced 
Abdul  Kerim  to  take  the  direct  road  to  Selipuk  between 
the  Tarok-tso  and  Tabie-tsaka.  We  had,  then,  three 
different  routes  to  choose  from,  which  led  over  the  blank 
space  on  the  map  of  Tibet,  where  there  arc  no  otb  '• 
black  lines  but  the  meridians  and  parallels  and  the  word 
"Unexplored."  I  did  not  take  a  minute  to  choose;  the 
middle  road  over  the  Lunkar-la  was  naturally  the  most 
desirable,  for  I  knew  that  it  would  yield  me  most  details  to 
complete  my  knowledf];e  of  the  intricate  orography  of  the 
Trans-Himalaya.  On  the  morning  of  June  9  we  hastily 
concluded  our  business,  obtained  yaks  and  guides,  bought 
barley,  rice,  and  Isamba,  took  farewell  of  the  chiefs  of 
Bong!  i-tarok,  and  steered  our  course  direct  to  the  temple. 
We  ,  issed  several  tent  villages,  for  the  country  is  densely 
peopled;  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  on  the  left,  a  warm 
spring  rises  out  of  the  ground.  Below  the  monastery  hill 
stand  twenty  small  white  stone  cabins,  each  with  a  red 
frieze  under  the  eaves  and  a  small  quadrangular  yard.  In 
front  of  the  village  are  two  chhortcns  (Illustrations  359,  366), 
behind  which  two  women  with  their  children  were  hiding. 
While  the  caravan  continued  uj)  the  Lunkar  valley,  I,  with 
Lobsang  and  Kutus,  ascended  the  porphyry  hill  to  the 
temple,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  quadrangular  wall.  Some 
savage  dogs  rushed  upon  us  and  snapped  at  Little  Puppy, 
but  there  was  no  other  sign  of  life.  We  went  into  the 
court  and  found  the  temple  door  closed,  and  fastened  with 
a  great  iron  lock.  As  I  was  sketching  a  panorama  of  the 
great  l)eautiful  lake  and  its  wreath  of  mountains,  si.x  men 
came  up  and  told  us  in  an  angry  voice  to  go  away.  I  rose 
up,  went  straight  to  the  nearest  of  them,  and,  pointing;  to 
the  path  down  to  the  village,  told  them  that  if  they  did  .not 
immediately  make  off  they  must  put  up  with  the  conse- 
quences. They  turned  round  meekly  without  saying  a 
word. 

The  lake  stretches  from  north,  26°  W.,  to  north,  57°  E., 
but  extends  farther  custwards  hidden  behind  a  mountain. 
To  the  north-north-cast  two  rocky  isle'.s  are  seen  near  the 


f^^ 


.: 


!'■ 


i     I 


392 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CBAP. 


northern  shore.  To  the  north-cast  the  Buptsang-tsangpo 
enters  a  bay,  and  in  the  far  distance  in  the  same  direction 
our  old  Sha-kan<,'sham  appears.  The  water  of  the  Tarok-tso 
is  said  to  he  sweet,  but  I  had  no  opportunity  of  confirming 
this  statement.  If  it  is  correct,  the  lake  must  have  a  sub- 
terranean outlet  to  the  Tabie-tsaka  lying  to  the  north, 
though  a  small  mountain  offshoot  lies  between  the  two 
lakes. 

We  left  the  small  inhospitable  monastery  and  a  couple 
of  small  white  and  red  houses,  where  the  nuns  have  their 
cells,  and  soon  rejoined  our  men  in  the  Lunkar  valley. 

In   the   night   the  temperature   was  above   freezing-point 
for    the    first    time.     Our    i)ath    ascended    steeply    to    the 
south-west  and  south,  and   in  three  hours  we  were  at  the 
streamer-decked  cairn  on  the  Lunkar-la,  where   the   height 
was   18,274   feet.     From  a   height  to  the  north-east   of  the 
pass  the  Tarok-tso  lies  below  the  spectator  as  on  a  map, 
and  in  the  north  from  20°  to  26°  E.  is  seen  the  white  an'^ 
yellow  saline  depression  of  Tabie-tsaka,   renowned  through 
out    Tibet.     At    Goang-shung    we    got    three    new    guides, 
with  four  yaks,  who  took  us  to  the  bank  of  the  Gyenor-  or 
Goang-tsangpo  —  a  small    river    which,    coming    from    the 
mountain  Kapta  in  the   south-east,  falls   into   the  Poru-tso. 
To  the  west  rises  a  chain  of  mighty  snowy  peaks.     On  the 
morning  of  June  12,  after  8.8  degrees  of  frost,  the  stream 
was  covered  with  a  third  of  an   inch  of  ice,  and  I  missed 
the   pleasant   ri{)i)ling   sound   of  the   evening.     But   the   ice 
broke  up  in  the  sunshine  and  rattled  down  in  large  flakes. 
We   were   conducted   still   to   the   south-west;    on   the   next 
day   when   we   encamped   on    the    lake   shore   the   direction 
was  nearer  west.     From  camp  428  (17,067  feet)  we  had  a 
fine  view  over  the  small  take  Poru-tso,  also  called  Yeke-tso 
because    it    is    situated    in    the     district     Bongba-yeke,    the 
westernmost    in    the    large    province   of    Bongba,    which    is 
under   the   control   of   Karma    Puntso.     To   the   west   of   it 
follows    Kigi-hloma   or   Rigi-changmo,   which    is   subject   to 
Ngari-karpun,    as    the    Garpun    of    Gartok    is   called    here. 
Puru-tso  is  drying  up ;    the  highest  shore-line  lies  354  feet 
above  the  prcM^^nl  level  of  the  lake.      The  water  is  not  fit 
for  drinking,  but.   curiously  enough,  it   still   contains   fish. 


;-J.       >>iN\'.l     Ni.l   Kl'.l       i\.'    Ill-     l"ili'i\lk-    ■'%     ll'iK-l   I'.  \i  K. 


i 


'Mh    Ot     "l  K    II'  'F-l  -    "N     I  111      W    \  .      I  "     K  \Mll  \      I  -1   N  X'.l   ■>      i  I    .  1  . 


i 

I; 


'I  il 


it!  '• 


I- 


n 


LXXI 


ACROSS  THE  WHITE   PATCH 


393 


An    extremely    disagreeable    odour    rises    from    the    l)cach. 
The  lake  stretches  from  north-cast  to  south-west. 

On  June  14  we  rode  westwards  and  crossed  the  broad 
valley  watered  by  the  Nyapchu-tsangpo,  which,  descending 
from  the  Men-la  due  south,  falls  into  the  Poru-tso.  The 
Men  la,  a  day's  journey  off,  is  a  pass  in  a  longitudinal 
valley  between  two  of  the  ranges  of  the  Trans-Himalaya. 
Over  its  threshold  a  road  runs  to  Shamsang  on  the  upper 
Tsangpo.  A  day  was  sj)ent  on  .he  bank,  of  the  Surle- 
tsangpo,  which  also  flows  to  the  Poru-tso,  and  in  the 
evening  carried  quite  210  cubic  feet  of  water  per  second. 

Here  I  was  waited  on  by  Gova  Pundar  of  Rigi-hloma, 
an  elderly  man,  who  gave  me  a  kadakh,  butter,  meal,  and 
milk,  and  sold  us  all  the  provisions  we  required  for  several 
days,  and  his  goodwill  knew  no  bounds.  The  people  in 
this  part  of  Tibet  were  always  very  friendly  disposed.  In 
the  Lob  country  the  natives  called  me  Padishahim  or 
"Your  Majesty,"  a  title  that  more  than  satisfied  my 
ambition;  but  in  Bongba  and  Rigi  I  was  often  called 
Rinpoche  or  "Your  Holiness,"  which  I  thought  a  little 
too  strong.  But  they  meant  well,  and  I  accepted  their 
civilities  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  Gova 
Pundar  knew  every  inch  of  his  country,  and  I  pumi)ed  him 
thoroughly.  Among  other  interesting  details,  he  informed 
me  that  thirteen  days'  journey  to  the  north,  near  the 
Lakkor-tso,  was  a  monastery  Marmik-gompa,  a  dependency 
of  Sera,  with  twenty-five  monks  and  four  nuns.  In  the  year 
1901  I  had  been  at  the  Lakkor-tso,  and  had  heard  the  blast 
of  the  shell-horn  at  the  other  side  of  a  ridge,  but  I  did  not 
enjoy  the  same  freedom  as  now,  and  could  not  visit  the 
monastery. 

We  rode  on  the  i6th  in  a  snowstorm,  with  fresh  men 
and  yaks,  through  the  picturesque  Surle  valley,  and  on  the 
17th  over  stony  moss-grown  slopes  to  the  pass  Sur-Ia  or 
Sur-la-Kemi-la,  19,134  feet  high,  which,  like  the  Lunkar-la, 
is  of  the  second  order,  for  it  is  a  divide  between  the  Poru- 
tso  and  the  Shovo-tso.  Before  reaching  the  actual  pass  we 
had  a  striking  view  west-south-west  over  a  world  of  firn- 
fields,  peaks  clothed  with  eternal  snow,  and  glaciers,  one  ot 
which,  of  large   dimensions   and  bluish-green  m  front,  with 


I 


rH^ 


} 


394 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP.  t.XXI 


numerous  marines  and  rivulets,  descends  to  the  Surle 
river.  Here  grey  granite  predominates;  wild  yaks  are 
everywhere;  the  country  is  barren  and  of  a  high  alpine 
character.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Sur-la  the  ground 
descends  rapidly  among  (juantities  of  medium-sized  granite 
boulders. 

At  camp  431  we  were,  then,  in  the  district  Rigi- 
changma.  When  we  went  on  farther  down  the  valley 
from  the  pass  on  June  18,  we  suddenly  heard  wild  yells 
from  a  whole  choir  of  four  large  and  si.x  small  wolves, 
which  were  strolling  along  a  slo{)e  immediately  to  the  left 
of  the  path.  They  were  greyish-yellow,  and  seemed 
hungry  anvl  in  a  very  vicious  humour.  Takkar  rushed 
heedlessly  at  them,  but  they  faced  him,  and  he  thought  it 
better  to  turn  back.  They  showed  no  signs  of  fear,  but 
held  their  ground  even  when  we  threw  stones  at  them. 
At  that  moment  two  horsemen  with  weapons  and  red  hats 
came  down  from  the  Sur-Ia.  They  were  pursuivants  sent 
out  in  advance  to  Selipuk  to  make  preparations  for  the 
arrival  of  the  set  puns,  or  gold  commissioners.  These 
gentlemen  arc  sent  annually  from  Lhasa  to  Tok-jalung, 
and  their  journey  is  burdensome  to  the  nomads,  for  they 
exact  pack  animals  and  food  without  payment.  They  take 
the  road  north  of  the  Teri-nam-tso  and  Tabie-tsaka,  which 
is  one  of  Tibet's  great  arteries.  It  is  called  the  Ser-lam, 
or   the   "gold   road." 

Over  a  small  saddle  we  came  to  the  Pcdang-tsangpo's 
valley,  6^  miles  broad,  which  starts  from  the  Trans- 
Himalavan  pass  Pedang-la,  and  runs  almost  due  north. 
Camp  ^7,2  was  pitched  on  the  river  bank  in  a  place  quite 
devoid  of  life.  Our  guides  wished  to  turn  back  with  their 
yaks,  but  were  persuaded  to  accompany  us  to  the  nearest 
tent  village.  What  could  the  Tibetans  be  thinking  of? 
They  left  us  without  the  slightest  supervision,  and  we 
enjoyed  more  freedom  than  ever  before.  We  could  now 
have'  travelled  anywhere  we  liked,  eastwards  to  Tabie-tsaka 
or  southwards  over  the  Trans-Himalaya;  but  the  lakes  in 
the  nurth  had  most  attraction  f;'r  me,  and  wc  should  have 
to  cross  the  lofty  mountains  in  the  south  at  some  time. 


CHAPTER    LXXII 

THE   LAST   DAYS   IN   rXKNOWN   COUNTRY 

On  June  19  \vc  proceeded  north-north-cast  down  the 
Pedanp-tsangpo's  gently  declining  valley,  sometimes  near, 
sometimes  at  a  distance  from,  the  fairly  large  river.  On 
the  right  was  the  ridge  of  the  Sur-Ia  with  its  snowy  sum- 
mits and  small  glacier  tongues,  and  far  in  the  north  was 
seen  a  huge  crest  called  Ganglung-gangri,  a  prolongation 
of  the  Sur-la.  Wc  found  that  this  colossal  range,  like  its 
eastern  and  western  neighbours,  runs  from  north-north- 
west to  south-south-east,  and  that  the  orographical  con- 
figuration is  totally  unlike  the  scheme  set  forth  by 
Hodgson,  Atkinson,  Saunders,  and  Burrard,  for  these 
gentlemen,  quite  hypothctically,  inserted  a  single  chain 
parallel  to  the  upper  Brahmaputra.  In  reality  one  wanders 
here  in  a  labyrinth  of  mountain  ranges,  one  and  all  only 
parts  of  the  gigantic  system  of  the  Trans-Himalaya. 

The  road  was  excellent,  and  after  a  long  ride  we  set  up 
our  two  tents  on  the  bank  of  a  glacier  stream  while  snow 
squalls  and  showers  of  pelting  rain  came  down  alternately. 
Here  we  had  to  stay  a  day,  that  the  genial  nomads  of  the 
neighbourhood  might  send  for  the  district  chief;  for  we 
had  nothing  to  eat,  but  had  to  buy  whatever  we  could  get. 
He  came,  and  we  bought  provisions  for  50  rupees,  and 
gave  him  20  for  his  kindness.  Our  treasury  was  almost 
empty,  and  I  looked  forward  with  trembK''^;  to  the  time 
when  we  should  be  obliged,  like  wandering  Jews,  to  sell 
vntches,  revolvers,  and  horses  to  gain  a  livelihood.  For 
here,  in  Rigi-changma,  no  one  liad  heard  of  .^bdul  Kerim 
and  his  men.     We  could  not  tell  what  had  happened.     Had 

395 


J'<} 


Til 

I 


'i 


f 


!  r     11 


Id  i: 


396 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP 


he  gone  quite  off  his  hiad?  He  had  25CX3  rupees  with 
him;  had  he  decamped,  or  had  he  bx-'en  robfx;d?  A  Icttei 
was  dtspatrhtd  to  (iova  Parvang  saying  that  if  he  did  nol 
get  news  of  thim  in  a  week  he  would  have  all  the  Deva 
shung  and  the  Mandarins  atx^ut  his  ears.  At  any  rate  wc 
had  made  a  splendid  journey  through  unknown  country, 
and  now  we  must  make  our  way  to  the  Shovo  tso  wc  had 
long  heard  spoken  of.  Properly  we  ought  to  have  gone 
over  the  Pedang  range  on  the  west  direct  to  Selipuk,  but 
it  was  not  difficult  to  talk  over  the  Gova,  and  on  June  21 
he  had  fresh  yaks  and  guides  ready.  The  latter  were  a 
young  man  and  a  lx)y  ten  years  old  in  a  blue  sheepskin. 
With  these  we  could  have  gone  ofT  anywhere,  but  I  was 
tired  and  longed  to  get  home.  'I'he  valley  of  the  Pedang- 
tsangpo  took  us  farther  to  the  north.  It  is  unusual  to  find 
in  Tibet  such  a  great  Ifingitudinal  valley  running  north 
and  south,  for  they  lie  almost  always  east  and  west,  and 
produce  the  [)eculiar  parallelism  so  characteristic  of  the 
country.  We  passed  si.xteen  tents,  and  near  the  last  wc 
crossed  the  Pedang-tsangpo,  which  runs  to  the  Shovotso 
by  a  more  easterly  course.  Lobsang  caused  great  amuse- 
ment when  he  was  attacked  by  a  furious  dog,  and,  having 
no  stones,  threw  his  bright  sheath-knife  at  him;  he  missed, 
but  the  dog  took  the  knife  in  his  teeth  and  ran  of!  to  his 
master's  tent. 

Then  we  rode  up  to  the  Abuk-la  pass,  with  a  view  both 
magnificent  and  instructive.  The  bluish-green  Shovo-tso  is, 
like  Poru-tso,  longest  from  north-cast  to  south-west,  and  i« 
surrounded  by  huge  mountains,  some  of  them  with  eternal 
snow.  To  the  north,  30°  E.,  wc  sec  the  pass  Ka-la  over 
which  the  "gold  road "  runs.  The  name  Ka-la  occurs  on 
a  map  of  one  of  Montgomerie's  pundits  by  a  single  iso- 
lated mountain  summit.  In  reality  the  Ka-la  is  the  very 
opposite  of  a  mountain  summit,  namely,  a  depression  or 
saddle  in  a  mountain  range.  We  encamped  on  the 
southern  shore  of  the  Shovo-tso,  which  lies  at  an  absolute 
height  of  15,696  feet.  The  water  is  salt,  and  round  the 
shore  are  seen  old  shore-lines  of  about  the  same  height  as 
at  Poru-tso. 

June   22.    W'heh  we    left   the  western  extremity  of   the 


I  1.  WM    "I      (    II..K'   HI       I   \KIM.     I.I    W  I      ..|      nil      I'klMH    .M     M  1  ,ri   K 


.;;^.         l.WMi'l      (ill. Ki    111      .IN     H.lK>MIMK. 


.4 


V-  4 


It 


LXXII 


LAST  DAYS  IN  UXKN'OWN  ColNTRY 


397 


Shovo  tso  wc  saw  a  larpe  caravan  of  yaks  ami  ^horp  which 
sccmid  to  have  thi-  s;imc  drstination  as  ourselves.  Lob 
sang  found  out  that  the  jn-ople  were  ttikoras  or  i)ilf,'rims 
on  the  way  to  Kan>^  rinixx-hi',  and  that  >he  owner  of  the 
caravan  was  the  (iovernor  of  Chokchu,  Sonam  N'gurbu 
(Illustration  372).  We  left  then.  Khind  and  rode  up  to 
the  i)ass  Tela  matala.  A  horseman  approached  us  at  a 
f,'allop,  and  made  signs  to  us  to  halt.  We  waited  for 
him,  all  on  the  tip-t<K'  of  exjuctation,  for  we  made  sure 
that  he  brought  us  a  mes>age  from  Alxlul  Kerim. 
Hah !  it  was  only  one  of  vSonam  Xgurbu's  soldiers  who 
wanted  to  ask  our  guides  if  a  spring  on  the  way  to 
Selipuk  had  any  water  in  it  this  year.  Sonam  Xgurbu's 
caravan  had  come  from  Tal)ie  tsaka  and  had  not  heard 
a  word  of  our  men.  It  seemed  as  though  the  earth  had 
swallowed  them  up.  My  orders  had  Ix-en  that,  whate\«r 
else  they  did,  they  should  wait  for  us  on  the  Buptsang- 
tsangpo.  Doubtless  they  had  been  plundered  by  robbers; 
and  we  had  only  80  rujxes  left.  I  blessed  the  hour 
when  I  decided  to  keep  myself  all  the  maps,  notes, 
sketches,  and  rock  s|X'cimens  when  we  parted  at  Kamlja 
Tsenam's  tent.  Wc  could  obtain  money  by  selling  some 
valuables,  and  from  Selipuk  I  could  send  a  courier  to 
Thakur  Jai    Chand  in  Gartok. 

From  Tela-mata  la  we  have  again  a  striking  view  over 
almost  all  the  Sur-la  range  and  over  the  mountainous 
region  of  Lavar-gangri  to  the  south  of  Selipuk.  With 
every  day's  march  tiie  orogray)hicaI  conficuration  becomes 
clearer,  and  soon  the  leading  features  of  the  blank  space 
will  be  nearly  all  ascertained. 

The  temperature  again  sank  at  the  midsummer  season 
below  freezing-point,  the  reading  on  June  23  being  25.9°. 
We  rode  through  a  small  steep  valley  up  to  the  Tayep- 
parvala  (17,887  feet).  The  ground  was  so  honeycombed 
with  mouse-holes  that  the  horses  trod  on  two  or  three  at 
once.  Little  Puppy  caught  a  couple  of  field-mice  by  the 
neck,  and  we  did  not  pity  them.  .\  marmot  which  had 
ventured  too  far  from  its  hole  almost  fell  into  Takkar's 
clutches,  but  just  saved  himself  in  time.  At  the  pass  we 
made  the  usual  halt  for  observations,  and  I  drew  a  pane- 


' 


Ji-«J 


398 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAT. 


I  I 


.i 


t    : 


I  it 


rama  of  the  surroundings.  Between  north  and  north-west 
the  horizon  is  far  distant  and  the  country  level;  only  to  the 
north,  5°  W'.,  aj)pears  a  small  snowcapped  dome,  hut  not 
another  gan^ri.  The  view  over  Nganglaring-tso,  just  Ix-low, 
is  grand,  all  the  mountains  in  shades  of  pink,  and  the  water 
of  a  deep  ultramarine.  A  large  part  of  its  eastern  half  is 
occupied  by  a  large  island,  a  mountain  mass  rising  out  of 
the  water  with  a  contour  as  irregular  as  that  of  the  lake 
itself,  all  promontories,  bays,  and  capes.  To  the  north- 
west lie  three  small  islands.  No  European  had  ever  seen 
Nganglaring  tso  before,  nor  any  pundit.  But  the  pundit 
sent  l)y  Montgomerie  in  1867  to  Tok-jalung  obtained 
some  hazy  information  atout  the  district  "Shellifuk"  and 
the  great  lake  "(ihalaring-tso,"  which  was  afterwards 
inserted  in  maps  of  Tilx,'t.  The  form  given  by  the  p-mdit 
to  the  lake,  namely,  an  egg-shape  with  the  longer  axis  from 
north  to  south,  does  not  at  all  correspond  to  the  reality; 
for  the  lake  stretches  east  and  west,  and  its  contour  could 
not  be  more  irregidar  than  it  is.  The  pundit  places  a 
small  island  in  the  northern  half,  and  adds  the  legend 
"Monastery  on  Island."  In  reality  Nganglaring-t.so  has  at 
least   four  islands,  but   not  a  single  monastery. 

On  Midsummer  Day  we  encamped  by  the  roaring  surf 
(15,577  feet),  anil  on  the  25th  we  crossed  the  last  hilly  moun- 
tain spur  which  still  separated  us  from  the  extensive 
plain  of  Selipuk.  From  its  height  we  again  saw  the  great 
chain  of  Sur-la,  and  to  the  south  the  Trans-Himalaya  with 
si.xty-three  snowy  peaks,  regular  as  the  teeth  of  a  saw.  On 
the  26th  we  rode  over  level  country  to  the  west-north-west. 
On  the  plain  two  mounted  Tibetans  were  pursuing  a  wild 
ass,  which  was  wounded  in  the  near  foreleg  and  had  four 
dogs  at  his  heels.  The  dogs  did  not  bite  him,  but  tried 
to  chase  the  animal  in  a  certain  direction.  Time  after 
time  the  men  were  close  on  the  game  and  dismounted; 
they  did  not  shoot,  but  threw  up  dust  wit'i  their  hands  to 
frighten  the  wild  ass  and  drive  him  as  near  as  possible  to 
their  tent,  that  they  might  not  have  to  carry  the  meat  far 
(Illustration  356). 

Camp  43g  was  pitched  on  the  bank  of  the  river 
Sumdang  tsaiigpu,    which    flovv^.    into    the    Nganglaring-tso 


'^r   I 


i 


li 


.u'' 


■  i- 


ikcl.  Ik  -  \t\  tin-  Authiir. 


'.   k 


^A 


I  1 


1 


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iv 


'i 

I 


LAST  DAYS  IN  UNKNOWN  COUNTRY 


399 


without  joining  the  rivers  Lavar-tsangpo  and  Aong-tsang- 
po,  farther  west,  which  unite  and  enter  the  lake's  most 
western  bounds.  Here  Lobsang  caught  a  wolf  cub,  a  small 
wild  rogue,  w '  ich  much  interested  Takkar.  But  Takkar 
had  a  great  ispcct  for  his  heredifary  enemy  and  ven- 
tured to  bite  only  his  tail.  Afterwards  he  Ixcame  bolder, 
and  when  the  little  creature  found  himself  in  a  desperate 
situation,  he  threw  himself  into  the  river  to  swim  over 
to  the  other  side.  Then  Takkar  gave  a  yell,  _  jumped 
in  and  caught  the  cub,  thrust  him  down  with  his  paws, 
seized  him  with  his  teeth  and  brought  him  to  land,  where  he 
ate  every  bit  of  him. 

We  followed  the  river  upwards  on  June  27  and  encamped 
again  on  its  bank  opposite  the  monastery  Selipuk-gompa 
(15,696  feet),  the  abbot  of  which,  a  Kanpo-lama,  Jamtse 
Singe,  was  also  chief  of  the  district  in  secular  alTai:  >  (Illus- 
trations 356,  374,  369.  340-  Neither  he  nor  any  one  else 
had  heard  anything  of  Abdul  Kerim,  but  he  was  so  good 
as  to  search  in'his  holy  books  to  fmd  out  where  our  men  were, 
and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were  somewhere  to 
the  south,  and  that  in  twenty  days  we  should  either  meet  them 
or  hear  some  reliable  news  of  th'm. 

On  June  28,  at  half-past  nine  in  the  evening,  the 
country  was  shaken  by  an  earthquake  —  the  only  one  I  ever 
experienced  in  Tibet.  However,  it  had  no  effect  on  the 
good  relations  between  mo  and  the  monks  and  Sonam 
Ngurbu,  the  Governor  (Illustrations  326,  375),  who  was  also 
a  guest  in  the  monastery,  and  had  a  high  lama  from  Chokchu 
(Illustration  355)  in  his  party.  The  Governor  gave  u.^  as 
much  tsamba,  rice,  and  sugar  as  would  at  a  pinch  last  us 
till  we  came  to  Tokchcn,  and  he  received  a  watch  in  ex- 
change. Of  money  we  had  only  a  few  rupees  left.  I  had 
never  been  in  such  straits  before.  If  I  ever  meet  Abdul 
Kerim  again,  I  thought,  he  shall  get  what  he  deserves  and 
a  little  more. 

When  we  set  up  our  tents  on  the  last  day  of  June  on  the 

Rartse    plain,    south    of    Selipuk,    Lobsang    announced    at 

dusk   that   four   men   and   four  mules  wore   coming  to  the 

camo.      They   were   Abdul    Kerim,    Sedik,    Gaffar,   and   a 

.,'^  -  •'  .     <  •  _^        <••,.        1        If 1 

iioctan.     Our  caravan  basi'ii  came  ingnitntu  ana  cuiiiubeu 


>  i 


i 


>1 


400 


TRAXS-HIMALAYA 


CUAP.    LXXII 


;i 


let: 


^ 


to  my  tent,  anrl  I  thought  it  better  that  he  should  give  an 
account  of  his  si.'\var(l--lii|i  before  I  [)a>sefl  sentence  on 
him.     He    rejjorted    that    they    had    conn'    to    the  ;nted 

rendezvous  at  the  proper  time,  but  there  he  had  hard 

pressed  bv  six  govas  -(jo\a  Parvant;  amonj,'  t  in.  vvho 
took  the  lead,  and  ordered  tluni  to  leave  the  place  at  once 
and  go  on  to  the  Tarok  tso.  \s  they  had  no  passport  from 
Lhasa,  ihiy  could  expect  no  mercy,  he  said.  So  they 
betook  themselves  to  the  northern  sliore  of  the  Tarok  tso, 
where  they  waited  fourteen  days,  as  the  grazing  was  good 
and  no  one  interfered  with  thrm.  They  heard  contra- 
dictory reports  about  us.  At  'ength  a  nomad  died  on  the 
lake  shore,  and  a  monk  from  Lunkar-gomjja  was  summoned 
tf)  his  tent  to  read  the  prayers  for  the  dead.  They  met  this 
man,  and  he  said  that  we  had  passed  the  monastery 
nine  days  previously.  Then  they  packed  up  all  their  Ix;- 
longing-,  intending  to  hurry  after  us  next  morning.  But 
hor.se  --halers  had  come  in  the  night  and  stolen  my  grty  Tikze 
horse  and  a  mule  from  Saka  dzong.  This  event  cost 
them  three  days,  but  they  never  recovered  the  stolen 
animals.  While  Suen,  .Abdullah,  AImIuI  Rasak,  and  Sonam 
Kunchuk  followed  slowly,  the  three  others  made  forced 
marches  westwards,  and  now  at  last  they  were  here  and  had 
all  our  cash  with  them.  Abdul  Kerim  escaped  with  a  slight 
reprimand,  but  I  afterwards  heard  the  other  men  badger- 
ing him.  We  found  the  others  in  Kyangrang,  and  >o  the 
whole  strength  of  the  company,  thirteen  men,  was  complete 
when,  on  July  8,  we  crossed  the  pass  Ding  la  (Illustration 
213),  19,308  feet  high,  the  loftiest  pass  we  had  crossed  in 
all  this  journey  in  Tibet,  and  on  past  the  small  lake  Argok- 
tso,  which  lie?  in  the  basin  of  the  Aong-tsang{)o ;  anci  on 
July  12  we  crossed  the  Surngela  (17,310  feet).  Two 
days  later  wc  came  to  Tokchen,  where  another  political 
entanglement  detained  us  nine  days.  But  I  cannot  stay 
to  give  an  account  of  it,  for  I  reached  the  limit  of  the 
space  allowed  mc  at  Chapter  LXIV,  and  my  publisher  is 
impatient. 


'■i 


CHAPTER   LXXIII 


THE  TRANS -HIMALAYA 


On  the  map  of  the  Jesuits,  now  two  hundred  years  old 
(D'Anville,  1733)  (Map  2),  a  series  of  mountains  runs 
on  the  north  side  of  the  upjier  Brahmaputra,  Ix'urinf,' 
from  cast  to  west  the  followini^  names:  Vouc,  Larkin, 
Tchimouran  Coiran,  Tchompa,  Lo{),  Tchour,  Takra  concki, 
Kentaissc  (Kaikis)  Latatsi,  etc.  These  mountains  and 
ranges  have  never  Ix'en  transferred  to  modern  maps  of 
Tilx't,  probably  Ix'cause  geogra[)hers  regarded  the  material 
collected  by  trained  Tilxtans  as  too  unreliable  and  in- 
defmite.  Yet  these  chains  of  mountains  are  nothing  else 
but  the  Trans-Himalaya,  though  the  representation  Ls  confused 
and  inexact. 

When  Brian  Hodgson  in  his  map  of  southern  Tibet 
(Selections  from  the  Records  of  the  Government  of  Benf^al, 
Xo.  x.xvii),  here  reproduced  in  facsimile  (Map  3),  drew 
a  huge  unbroken  chain  north  of,  and  parallel  to,  the 
Tsangpo,  he  to(jk  a  step  which  could  only  be  based  on  the 
Jesuits'  map  and  the  data  he  received  in  the  year  1843  from 
the  Maharaja  of  Xepal.  Xo  doubt  lofty  mountains  existed 
to  the  north  of  the  Tsangpo  —  that  was  known  to  the  Jesuits 
even  in  the  time  of  Kang  Hi.  I'ut  Hodgson's  hyj)othetical 
Xycnchhen-thangla  (Trans-Himalaya),  which  he  looks  upon 
as  a  prolongation  of  the  Karakorum,  ancl  the  natural 
boundary  Ixtwcen  northern  and  southern  Tibet,  is  by  no 
means  an  original  conce[)tion,  and  is  no  advance  on  previous 
knowledge,  or,  more  correctly,  theory.  For  already,  in  the 
yi.ar  1840,  Dufour  had  inserted  a  similar  huge  uninterrupted 
chain   north  of,  and  parallel  to,  the  Tsangpo,  on  the  map 

VOL.  II  401  2  II 


li 


'G.  , 


i 


i  A 


I     '; 


I    1 


402 


TRA\S-H  I  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


which  illustrates  the  famous  d'jscription  of  the  travels 
of  the  La/arist  missionary,  Father  Hue  (Illustration  381) 
~  Souvruirs  d'un  Voyiii:^c  dans  la  Tartaric,  Ic  Thibet  el  la 
Chinr,  1844-46.  Dufour's  map  is  even  Ix'tter  than 
Hodi^son's,  for  he  has  adopted  from  the  Jesuits'  map  a 
northern  affluent  to  the  Tsanj^'po,  passini^  throuijh  the 
great  ranj^e,  which,  like  the  Ji'suits,  he  calls  Mts.  Koiran. 

Hue  and  Cialxt  were  j)r()t)ahly  the  first  Europeans  to 
cross  the  Trans-Himalaya,  and  one  wonders  where  they 
made  the  passat^e.  Proljably  by  the  Shan<;-shunf^  la  alonj^ 
the  Mon,!:;olian  pilp;rim  road  from  Kukunnr  and  Tsaidam 
to  Lhasa.  It  is  vain  to  seek  any  infurmation  on  the 
subject  in  Hue's  famous  Ixiok.  During  the  two  years 
Hue  stayed  in  Macaf)  he  worked  up  the  scanty  notes  he  had 
made  on  his  journey.  He  mentions  Hurkhan  Hota.  Shuga, 
and  Tangla,  and  also  the  large  village  Xakchu,  where 
the  caravans  exchange  their  camels  for  yaks,  but  he  savs 
not  a  \\"rd  alK)Ut  the  pass  by  which  he  crossed  one  of  the 
mightiest  mountain  sy>t(ms  of  the  world.  He  says, 
indeed,  that  he  went  over  a  colossal  mountain  range,  and 
as  its  position  agreed  with  that  of  the  Mts.  Koiran  of 
Dufour  and  the  Jesuits,  he  ado;)ts  this  name,  which  he 
certainly  had  never  heard  on  his  journey,  and  which  prob- 
ably was  changed  on  its  way  from  Tifx^t  to  the  Jesuits'  note- 
books in  I'ekin.  All  he  has  to  say  of  his  journey  over  the 
Trans-Himalaya  is  contained  in  the  following  sentences: 
"La  route  cjui  conduit  de  Xa-Ptchu  a  Lha-Ssa  est,  en 
general,  rocailleuse  et  trcs-fatigante.  Quand  on  arrive 
a  la  chaine  dcs  monts  Koiran,  elle  est  d'unc  difficulte 
extreme"  (ii.  p.  241). 

Another  attempt  to  represent  the  course  of  the  Trans 
Himalaya  was  made  by  Trelawney  Saunders  in  his  map  of 
Tibet  (Map  6),  which  is  found  in  Markham's  Narratives 
of  the  Mission  of  Grori^r  Bof:;k  to  Tibet,  and  of  the  Journey 
of  Thomas  Manning  to  Lhasa  (London,  iSjg),  and  in 
Edwin  T.  Atkinson's  The  Himalayan  Districts  of  the  North- 
Westrrn  Provinces  of  India  (.Mlahabad,  1S82).  Like  Dufour 
and  Hodgson,  Saunders  draws  a  huge  continuous  chain 
iill  ilirough  Tibet.  Fcif  tile  VvusterM  j^arts,  north  of 
Manasarowar,  and  for  the  eastern,  south  of  Tengri-nor.  he 


IXVIII 


THE   TRANS  HIMALAYA 


40,} 


bus  relied  on  the  cartography  of  the  pundits;  the  rest, 
l)ft\vtrn  82°  and  S<)k°  E.  lon^.,  is  partly  a  reproduction  of 
the  Jesuits'  map,  partly  pure  fancy,  and  has  not  the 
remotest  resemblance  to  the  reality,  as  will  he  api)ar(nt 
from  a  comi)ari.M)n  of  Saunders'  map  with  mine.  I  will 
only  point  out  that  the  Trans-Himalaya  con.-ists  not  of 
one  chain  but  of  many,  and  that  the  source  of  the  Chaktak- 
tsang}>o  lies  to  the  south,  not  to  the  north  of  the  princii)al 
one.  All  the  central  and  largest  part  of  the  system, 
which  I  exploret'  is  therefore  (juite  incorrect  on  Saunders' 
map. 

In  the  year  1867  Colonel  Mont^'omerie  (Illustration 
380)  sent  out  three  [jundits  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
piling,' a  ma])  of  the  country  north  of  Manasarowar.  One 
of  them  was  the  incomparable  and  wonderful  Nain  Sinj^, 
another  was  the  man  who  was  at  \'iachan  prevented 
from  disco\erinf^  the  source  of  the  Indus.  On  their 
way  to  Tok  jalung  they  crossed  the  Trans-Himalaya 
at  the  Jukti-la,  which  they  called  Guf^'ti-la,  assij^minf? 
to  it  a  heij,'ht  of  19,500  feet:  I  found  its  height  was 
ig,o7o  feet.  Mr.  Calvert  crossed  the  same  pass  a  year 
before  me.  On  their  return  they  crossed  the  Trans- 
Himalaya  by  followin<^  the  eastern  branch  of  the  Indus 
down  to  where  it  breaks  throu<,'h  the  range  and  unites 
with  the  Gartok  branch. 

A  pundit  also  went  between  Manasarowar  and  Tok- 
jalung,  past  the  Kuldap-tso  —  a  name  and  lake  I  sought  for 
east  and  west  in  vain,  but  I  will  not  therefore  deny  its  exist- 
ence. Moreover,  of  this  pundit's  route  I  have  no  precise 
details.  It  seems  likely  that  he  crossed  the  Trans-Ihmalaya 
by  a  pass  called  Sar  lung. 

On  January  8,  1872,  one  of  Montgomerie's  explorers, 
a  young  trained  Tilx;tan,  travelled  over  the  Trans-Himalaya 
by  the  Khalamba-la,  17,200  feet  high.  In  Markham's 
account  of  this  journey  it  is  said  that  he  returned  across 
the  mountains  by  the  Dhok  la,  though  the  actual  water- 
parting  pass  he  came  to  was  much  more  probably  the 
Dam-largen-la.  This  pass  was  crossed  the  following  year 
(1873)  by  Xain  Sing  on  his  famous  journey  from  Leh  to 
Lhasa,    which    is    described    so    conscientiously    by    Colonel 


H 


404 


TRANS-HI  M  ALA  VA 


CBAP. 


Sir  Henry  Trotter.  N'ain  Sin^'  ;issi,i,'ns  to  Damlangrcn-la 
a  height  of  i6,goo  feet. 

The  great  |)un(lit  .\.  K.,  or  Krishna,  who  contends 
with  Xain  Sing  for  the  foremo>t  i)Iaee,  crossed  the  most 
easterly  fiarts  of  thi-  Trans -Himalaya  on  his  journey  in 
1 88 1,  and  more  jjrobahly  hy  tlie  pass  Shiar  gang  la  than 
the  Xulj  kong  la,  as  I  have  already  suggested;  hut  from  his 
map  it  is  ditlicult  to  decide  whether  the  Shiar-gang-la  is  a 
dividing  pass  of  the  first  rank  or  not.  In  any  case,  it  is  situ- 
ated on  the  chain  which  forms  the  watershed  Ix'lween 
the  Salwin  and  the  Brahmaputra,  and  is  undoubtedly  an 
immediate  continuation  of  the  Xien-chen-tang-Ia,  or  Trans- 
Himalaya.  A  similar  assumjHion  is  atx)  made  hy  Colonel 
S.  G.  Hurrard  in  his  and  Hayden's  admirable  work,  A  Sketch 
of  the  Gco'^raphy  aud  Gcolof^y  of  the  Ilitnahiya  Mountains 
ami  Tibet  (Calcutta,  1907).  On  map  .wii  in  this  work 
Burrard  has,  fjuite  rightly  in  my  opinion,  inserted  the 
f)r()longation  of  the  range,  though  we  have  no  sure  data 
about  its  course. 

Thii  we  find  that  after  P'ather  Hue  several  of  Mont- 
gomerie  s  and  Trotter's  pundits,  as  well  as  Mr.  Calvert  in 
the  year  iqo6,  crossed  the  Trans  Himalaya  in  Tibet.  So 
far  as  I  know,  there  are  only  two  more  names  to  Ik-  added 
to  these  —  namely,  Littledale,  who  on  his  lx)ld  journey  in 
1894-95  passecl  over  the  system  by  the  pass  Curing  la 
(19,587  feet),  and  Count  de  Lesdain,  who  crossed  it  by 
the  Khalamba-la  in  1905.  Both  describe  the  magnifi- 
cent spectacle  Xienchen-tang-la  presents  from  Tengri-nor, 
but  the  latter  added  nothing  to  our  knowledge  of  the 
Trans- Himalaya,  for  he  made  use  of  the  same  pass,  the 
Khalam!)a-la,  as  Montgomerie's  pundit.  In  his  narrative, 
Voyat^e  an  Thibet,  par  la  Mongolic  de  Pekin  aux  hides,  he 
mentions  not  a  single  pass,  much  less  its  name.  But  he 
followed  the  western  shore  of  Tengri-nor.  and  he  says 
(]).  340):  "Des  massifs  de  montagnes  tres  durs  ct  absolu- 
ment  cnchevetrcs  formaient  un  obstacle  insurmontable. 
En  conse(iuence,  je  resolus  de  suivre  Ic  premier  cours 
d'eau,  dont  la  direction  ferait  presumer  au'il  se  divi^eait 
vers  le  Brahmapoutra.  C'est  ainsi  cjue  nous  chemi names 
plusieurs    jours    en    suivant    les    bords    d'une    riviere    sans 


T    r. 


tifi 


(1 


1  1 


1  f 
I 


I 


Ji      ( 

N 


)!    { 

li  t 

til 

a" 

LXXIU 


THE    rRAN'S-IIIMALAYA 


405 


ct'sse  grossissanti',  a[)ptIcT  Chan^^-chu.  .  .  ."  This  river  is 
the  Shangchu,  which  comes  from  the  Khalamha-la. 

Two  Frenchmen  and  two  Kngii^hmen  have,  then, 
crossed  the  Trans-Himalaya  Ixfore  me,  Ixsides  half  a 
dozen  pundits.  Farther  west  in  F.nghsh  territory  in- 
numerable Ftiropeans  have  passed  over  the  system,  espe- 
cially by  the  Chang  la,  where  I  surmounted  it  three  times. 
Between  the  Indus  and  the  Panggongtso  I  travelled  over 
the  system  on  Xovemlxr  22,  1907,  by  the  easy  pass 
Tsake-la. 

An  extraordinarily  valuable  contribution  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Trans  Himalaya  was  afforded  us  by  Ryder 
and  Wood  on  their  remarkalile  journey  u[)  the  Brahma- 
putra in  the  year  1904.  They  had  no  oi)portunity  of 
crossing  the  system,  or  even  of  penetrating  a  day's  journey 
into  the  southern  transverse  valleys,  Imt  they  took  Ixanngs 
of  all  the  .summits  visible  from  their  route.  And  some 
of  these,  particularly  Lunpo-gangri,  arc  among  the  very 
highest  which,  under  a  mantle  of  eternal  snow,  rise  up 
from  the  Trans-Himalaya.  The  absolutely  highest  is, 
according  to  Ryder,  23,255  feet,  and  is  therefore  little 
inferior  to  Nien-chen-tang  la  with  its  23,900  feet.  Ryder 
and  Burrard  took  it  for  granted  that  these  summits  stood 
on  a  single  continuous  range,  which  they  represent  on  their 
map  as  the  northern  watershed  of  the  Brahmaputra.  In 
his  te.xt  (p.  95),  however,  Burrard  rightly  points  out  that 
this  chain,  which  he  calls  "the  Kailas  Range,"  is  not  the 
watershed,  for  in  some  places  it  is  broken  through  by 
affluents  from  the  north.  Burrard  commits  the  same 
mistake  as  Dufour,  Hodgson,  Saunders,  and  Atkinson, 
in  assur"ing  the  existence  of  a  single  continuous  range  to 
the  north  of  the  Tsangpo.  I  pondered  much  myself  over 
this  problem,  and  on  a  general  map  of  the  ranges  of  Tibet 
(1905)  I  inserted  two  ranges  north  of  the  Tsangpo,  a 
conception  in  accordance  with  F.  Grenard's  in  his  Carte 
de  VAsie  Centrale  of  the  year  1899. 

A  history  of  geographical  exploration  in  a  region  so 
little  known  as  the  1:'ns-Himalava  must  naturally  be 
exceeding  short  and  meagre.  With  all  my  researches  I 
have    not    been    able    to    discover   any   other    predecessors 


4o6 


IRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


than  those  alrrady  mrntionid  —  that  is,  in  those  parts  of 
thi"  systt  m  which  Vw  within  the  Ijound-.  of  Tilx-t  —and  not 
a  sin^it'  one  in  the  central  re^'ions  of  the  'lYans Himalaya. 
That  siK  h  an  extensive  region  as  southern  Tilxt  has  U'en 
quite  unknown  till  now.  though  it  lies  close  to  the  Indian 
fronti(  r,  h.i>  given  ri>e  to  much  riasonal)le  astonishment, 
and  in  niaiiy  <  irdes  argument^  and  i)roofs,  Itased  on  more  or 
less  apocryphal  records  and  vague  hypotheses,  have  been 
lalxjriously  sought  (nit  to  prove  that  my  discoveries  have 
not  the  f)riority  claimed  for  them.  The  maps  I  have 
re{)roduced  in  fac-imile,  when  carefully  compared  with 
my  (.wn  maj)s,  render  any  discussion  on  my  part  quite 
suj)ernuous. 

I  cannot,  however,  pass  ovit  in  silence  an  insinuation 
that  the  discoveries  I  have  matle  arc  to  he  found  indicatnl 
on  the  famous  wall-maps  in  the  Doge's  Palace  at  Venice 
The  Chief  Librarian  of  the  Royal  Library  in  Stockholm. 
Dr.  E.  W.  Dahlgren.  writes  in  a  letter  to  me:  "Only  the 
grossest  ignorance  and  silliness  can  fmd  on  these  maps 
traces  of  any  discoveries  {)revious  to  yours."  Before  my 
return  home  Professor  Mittag-Lelller,  Director  of  the  mathe- 
matical school  in  the  University  of  Stockholm,  had  sent 
for  photographs  of  these  maps  with  a  very  detailed  descrip- 
tion, and  he  has  kindly  [)laced  this  material  at  my  disposal. 
This  lx)ok  is  not  the  {)lace  in  which  to  publish  it,  and. 
besides,  the  following  statement  which  Dr.  Dahlgren  has 
obligingly  drawn  up  at  my  reciuest  makes  all  further 
comment  unnecessary : 


The  Wall-Maps  in  the  Sala  dello  Scudo,  in  the  Doge's 
Palace  at  Venice 

These  maps,  four  in  number,  were  constructed  by  the  noted 
cartographer  Giacomo  Gastaldi  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  to  take  the  place  of  older  maps  which  were  destroyed  by 
fire  in  the  year  1483;  at  least,  it  may  be  safely  assumed  that  two 
of  them,  those  of   Kast  Asia,  and  Africa,  are  the  work  of  Gastaldi. 

The  maps  represent : 

I.  Aria  ifom  the  ninuth  of  the  Imlus  eastwards  lO  China 
and  Japan,  as  well  as  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  part  of 
America. 


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Mil 


Lxxni  THE  TRANS-HIMALAYA  407 

2.  Asia  from  Asia  Minor  to  India  (Kashmir). 

3.  Africa. 

4.  Italy. 

Only  maps  Nos.  i  and  2  have  any  interest  for  Sven  Hedin. 
They  correspond  completely  with  the  photographs  procured  by 
Professor  Mittag-LcfHer. 

All  the  maps  were  restored  by  Francisco  Grisellini  about  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  map  No.  2  great  alterations 
seem  to  have  been  made  in  geographical  details  as  well  as  in 
the  text  and  in  the  decoration.  As  the  map  extends  no  farther 
east  than  Kashmir  it  has,  of  course,  no  connection  with  Sven 
Hedin's  discoveries. 

Map  No.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  has  in  many  essential  respects 
preserved  its  original  character.  We  can  undoubtedly  form  a  good 
notion  of  its  original  appearance  by  comparing  it  with  the  maps  in 
Ramusio's  work  Delle  Navigazioni  e  Viaggi  (2nd  Edition,  Venice, 
1554)  and  with  Gastaldi's  Tenia  Parte  delV  Asia  (Venice,  1561). 
The  resemblance  to  the  former  is  very  striking.  In  these  maps, 
as  in  the  wall-maps,  the  south  is  to  the  top. 

On  all  these  maps  there  is  very  great  confusion  in  the  representa- 
tion of  the  river  systems  of  the  Ganges  and  the  Brahmaputra.  The 
mountains  are  drawn  in  at  random,  and  even  the  Himalayas  cannot 
be  identified  with  complete  certainty,  much  less  the  ranges  of 
Central  Asia.  .'\s  the  map  was  chiefly  designed  to  illustrate  the 
travels  of  Marco  Polo,  it  naturally  gives  no  information  about 
counUies  he  did  not  visit.  e.  W.  Dahlgren. 

Father  Hue  concludes  the  account  of  his  journey  with 
the  following  remarkable  words:  "llais  il  ne  suffit  pas 
toujours  du  zele  de  I'ccrivain  pour  faire  connaltre  dcs 
contrces  oil  il  n'a  jamais  mis  le  pied.  Ecrire  un  Voyage 
en  Chine  aprfes  quelques  promenades  aux  factories  de 
Canton  et  aux  environs  de  Macao,  c'cst  peut-^tre  s'exposer 
beaucoup  a  parler  de  chose  qu'on  ne  connait  pas  sufTisam- 
ment  .  .  .  il  est  en  general  assez  diflBcile  de  faire  des 
decouvertes  dans  un  pays  sans  y  avoir  penetr^*." 

It  was  v.-ith  such  truths  in  my  mind  that  I  began  the 
journey  described  in  this  book,  the  object  of  which  was 
that  set  forth  by  Sir  Clements  Markham,  when  in  con- 
nection with  LittlVhle's  last  journey  he  made  the  following 
statement  {Geographical  Journal,  vol.  vii.  p.  4S2):  "In 
the   whole  length  from  Tengri-nor  to  the  Mariam-la  pass 


B 


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I  fi 


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I'     • 


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408 


TRANS -HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


no  one  has  crop^f'd  them  (the  Trans-Himalaya),  so  far  as 
we  know  .  .  .  and  I  behove  nothing  in  Asia  is  of  greater 
geographical  importance  than  the  exploration  of  this  range 
of  mountains." 

It  is  not  for  me  to  decide  how  far  I  have  achieved  my 
aim,  but  when  I  passed  over  the  Trans-Himalaya  for  the 
eighth  time  at  the  Surnge  la,  I  had  at  least  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  all  the  old  hyjKitheses  fall  down  like  a  house  of 
cards,  and  a  new  ground-plan  laid  down  on  the  map 
of  Asia,  where  before  the  blank  patch  yawned  with  its 
alluring  "Unexplored." 

I  have  no  space  here  for  a  complete  monograph  of 
the  Trans-Himalaya,  or,  indeed,  the  material  for  it,  until 
the  bearings  and  heights  of  the  peaks  .have  been  worked 
out,  the  rock  specimens  identified,  and  a  detailed  map  con- 
structed from  the  sheets  I  drew.  It  will  take  a  couple  of 
years  to  work  up  the  material.  I  will  here  only  communi- 
cate some  general  facts,  and  will  begin  by  citing  the  passes 
of  first  rank  as  watersheds,  appending  the  names  of  the 
travellers  who  have  crossed  some  of  them: 


Stiiar-gang-Ia 

Krishna,  1881 

Shang-shung-la 

Hue,  1845 

Dam-largen-la 

Nain  Sing,  1873 

16,903  feet 

Guring-la 

Littledale,  1895 

19.587    " 

Tsebo-la 

Shugu-la 

Khalamba-Ia 

Pundit,  1872 

17,200    " 

Do. 

de  Lcsdain,  1905 

Sela-la 

Hcdin,  1907 

18,064    " 

Chang-ia-Pod-la 

Hedin.  1907 

18,284    " 

Sha-la 

Angden-la 

Hedin,  1907 

18.514    " 

Tsalam-nakta-la 

Dombc-la 

Nakbo-kongdo-la 

Sangmo-bertik-la 

Hedin,  1908 

19.095    " 

Saggo-la 

Dicha-la 

Samyc-la 

Hedin,  1908 

18,133    " 

D>ararig-la 

Lungmar-la 

Tiih  AriiioK  i\  'I'liurw  Cunhmh    \r   iiii    Ml■-^Ill\  Simihn   in   In 
I'fi  .t-i;r,.|.h  l.\   llu-  Rev,  Mr,  .M,tr\. 


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I 


LXXIII 


THE  TRANS-niMALAYA 


409 


Pcchen-Ia 

Lungnak-la 

Yor-la 

Ganglung-la 

Men-la 

Pedang-la 

Gebbyi-la 

Yilung-la 

Tarkyang-la 

Sumgc-la 

Tseti-Iachen-la 

Jukti-la 

Do. 

Do. 


Pundit?  Hedin,  1908 
Hedin,  1907 
Nain  Sing,  1867 
Calvert,  iyo6 
Hedin,  1907 


17,310  feet. 
17-933    " 


19,070 


It  has,  then,  been  my  lot  to  cross  eight  Trans  Hi ma- 
hiyan  passes,  while  seven  have  been  crossed  by  other 
travellers.  Seven  of  my  passes  were  unknown  before. 
Of  the  i^'.hers  I  have  seen  the  Dicha-la  and  Men-la,  while 
of  the  remainder  I  have  only  gathered  oral  information. 
The  Jukti-la  is  the  watershed  between  the  two  headwaters 
of  the  Indus,  the  Tseti-lachcn-la  between  the  Sutlej  and 
the  Indus,  the  Surnge-la  between  the  Sutlej  and  the 
Nganglaring-tso.  Shiar-gang-la  and  Shang-shung-la  lie 
on  the  watershed  between  the  Salwin  and  the  Brahma- 
putra. All  the  others  lie  on  the  great  continental  water- 
shed between  the  ocean  and  the  isolated  drainage  of  the 
plateau.  It  appears  from  the  list  that  all  the  passes 
crossed  before  by  Europeans  and  pundits  belong  to  the 
eastern  and  western  parts  of  the  system.  Between  the 
Khalamba-la  and  the  Surngc-la  the  Trans-Himalaya  had 
not  been  crossed  in  a  single  line,  anrl  it  was  e.xactly 
between  these  two  passes  that  the  great  white  space  was 
situated.  All  that  was  known  of  it  was  the  peaks  fixed  by 
Ryder  and  Wood,  and  some  summits  seen  by  Nain  Sing 
from  the  north.  If  the  Pundit's  journey  between  Manasa- 
rowar  and  Ruldap-tso  be  disregarded,  of  which  I  have  no 
information,  the  interval  between  the  Khalamba-la  and  the 
Jukti-la  measures  590  miles,  or  about  as  far  as  from  Lin- 
koping  10  Ilaparanda,  or  Injin  London  to  Dornoch  Firth. 
And    between    these    limits   lie   all   the    passes   by   crossing 


1 


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I 

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ii  i; 


410 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CBAP. 


which    I  was  abk-   to  trace  the  course  of  tlic  Trans-Hima- 
laya, and  provi   that  its  known  eastern  and  western  sections 
are    connected    and    belong    to    the    same    mountain    systern, 
and  that  this  system  is  one  of  the  loftiest  and   mightiest  in 
the    world,   only   to   be   com|)ared    with    the    Himalayas,    the 
Karakorum,  Arka-tag,  and   Kuen-lun.      Iktween    the  Shiar- 
gang-la    and    Vasin.    not    far    from    the    sharj)    bend    of    the 
Indus,   its  length  amounts  to    1400  miles,   Ijut   if   it   can    be 
shown    that    the    Trans-Himalaya    merges    into    the    Hindu- 
Kush   and   continues   along   the   Sal  win,    its   length   extends 
to  2500  miles.      On  the  north  and  south  its  Ixjundaries  are 
shar[)  and   clearly  defined ;   the    northern   is  formed   by   the 
central   lakes    discovered    by    Xain    Sing    and    myself,    and 
the    southern   by   the   unheard-of   Indus-tsangpo   valley.     In 
breadth  it  is  inferior  to  the   Himalayas,  and  its  peaks  are 
lower,   but   the   heights  of  the  Tran.s-Himalayan   pas.ses  are 
considerably    greater    than    those    of    the    Himalayas.      The 
average   height   of   the   five    following   Himalayan    passes  — 
Shar-khalcp-la,    Man-da-la,   She-ru-la,   Xo-la   and    Kore-   or 
Photu-la  — is  16,736  feet,  while  the  average  height  of  my  first 
five  Trans-Himalayan  passes  is  18,400  feet.      It  may  \)C  said 
generally   that   the   dividing   passes   in   the   Trans-IIimalaya 
of  the  first  rank  are  1600  feet  higher  than  in  the  Himalayas. 
But    the   highest    peak   of   the    Himalayas,    Mount    Everest, 
with    its    29,000,    is    5100   feet   higher   than    the    Xicn-chen- 
tang-la,  the  culminating   point,  as   far   as   wc   know.      Here- 
with is  connected  the  different  forms  of  relief  predominating 
in  the  two  systems;    the  crests  of  the  Trans-Himalaya  are 
flatter,  its  valleys  shallower  and  broader,  while  the  crests  of 
the  Himalayas  are   sharp   and   pointed,  its   valleys  deep  and 
much  enxitxl.     The  former  system  is  more  compact  and  mas- 
sive than  the  latter,  as  we  may  e.xpect  if  we  remember  that 
the  Himalayas  are  deluged  by  "the  precipitation  of  the  south- 
west monsoon,  and  that  its  waters  have  for  untold  thousands 
of  years  degraded  its  valleys,  while  the  Trans-Himalaya  on 
the  dry  plateau  country  receives  a  comparatively  insignificant 
share  of  the  monsoon  rain.      Were  it  possible  to  compare  the 
volumes  of  the  two  systems,  we  should  no  doubt  find  that 
the  northern   is  much  more  massive  than  the  southern,   for 
such  a  comparison  must  proceed  from  sea-level,  and  though 


|vS-.^^'>:  -  -■<^-Sl-^'^  -y^' 


LXXIII 


THE    r  R  AN  S-1 1 1  MALAY  A 


411 


the  Trans-Himalaya  is  thf  narrower  nf  the  two.  its  ascent 
begins  from  heights  of  10,000  tn  r6,ooo  feet,  from  the 
Tsiingpo  valley,  while  the  Himalayas  rise  from  sea-level 
or  a  few  hundred  feet  alxne  it.  As  a  watershed  the 
Trans-Himalaya  occupies  a  higher  and  more  important 
place  than  the  Himalayas.  In  the  west  the  Himalayas 
part  the  waters  between  the  Indus  and  .some  of  its  tribu- 
taries, and  in  the  cast  the  system  is  a  divide  between  the 
Brahmaputra  and  the  Ganges.  But  every  drop  of  water 
which  falls  on  the  Himalayas  goes  down  to  the  Indian 
Ocean.  On  the  other  hand,  all  the  central  Trans-Hima- 
laya is  a  watershed  between  the  Indian  Ocean  on  the  .south 
and  the  enclosed  drainage  area  of  the  |)lateau  depression 
vn  the  north.  Only  in  its  western  .section  is  the  Trans- 
Himalaya  also  a  watershed  between  the  Indus  and  some  of 
its  right-hand  tril)Utaries,  and  in  its  ea.stern  between  the 
Salwin  and  Brahmaputra.  Within  the  lK)un(laries  of  Tibet 
there  is  only  one  river  which  takes  its  ri.se  from  the  northern 
flank  of  the  Trans-Himalaya  and  breaks  through  the  system 
by  a  transverse  valley;  but  this  river  is  a  lion,  and  is  called 
by  the  Tibetans  the  Lion  river,  the  Singi-kamba  or  Indus. 
The  Salwin  also  springs  from  the  northern  flank  of  the 
sy.stem,  but  finds  its  way  to  the  ocean  without  pas.sing 
through  the  mountains.  All  the  other  rivers  rising  on  the 
northern  slopes,  of  which  the  Buptsang-t.sangpo  and  the 
Soma-tsangpo  are  the  largest,  flow  into  the  undraincd  salt 
lakes  on  the  north.  Only  in  the  central  parts  of  the  Trans- 
Himalaya,  stretching,  however,  over  a  di.stance  of  nearly 
600  miles,  does  the  continental  watershed  coincide  with  the 
main  axis  of  the  system,  for  to  the  west  the  watershed  runs 
northwards  from  the  source  of  the  Indus,  and  then  west- 
wards, so  as  to  leave  the  Panggong-tso  within  the  isolated 
drainage  basin  of  Tibet,  and  in  the  east  runs  northwards 
from  the  region  between  the  source  streams  of  the  Salwin  and 
Tengri-nor. 

1  have  called  this  book  Trans-Himalaya,  becau.se  the 
incidents  and  adventures  described  in  these  two  volumes 
occurred  in  this  huge  mountain  system  lying  to  the  north 
of  the  Tsangpo  and  in  the  country  to  the  north  and  south 
of    it.      When    I    first    crossed    the    dividing   range    at    the 


^^^^^^ 


-     _!-'  *- 


l..T|^- 


i       E 


TT* 


41J 


TRAXS-H I  MALAYA 


CHAP. 


Scla-la  I  thought  of  retaining  the  name  Hodgson  had 
assigned  to  it,  that  is,  Nicn-chcn-tang-la,  and  1  did  not 
change  my  mind  after  crossing  the  Chang-la-Pod-la  and 
Angden-la,  for  these  three  passes  lie  on  one  and  the  same 
range,  whicli  on  the  scjuthern  shore  of  Tcngri-nor  is  called 
Nien-chen-tang-la.  After  crossing  the  Tseti-lachen-la  and 
the  Jukti-la  1  supposed  that  these  passes  lay  on  the  western 
prolongation  of  the  Xien-chen-tang-la,  and  that  the  con- 
ception of  HodgS(jn,  Saunders,  Atkinson,  Hurrard,  and 
Ryder  was  correct.  Hut  after  the  .second  journey  right 
through  Tibet,  and  after  I  had  cro.ssed  Hongba  in  several 
directions  and  found  that  there  was  no  question  of  a  single 
continuous  range,  but  that  a  whole  collection  of  ranges 
quite  indepench  '  of  one  another  existed,  I  perceived  that 
the  name  Xien-tnen-tang-la,  which  only  denotes  one  of  all 
these  ranges,  could  not  1k>  given  to  the  whole  sy.steni. 
Equally  inappropriate  would  be  the  names  Lunpo-gangri, 
Kamchung-gangri,  Targo-gangri,  or  any  other  local  name. 
Saunders'  "Gangri  Mountains"  I  consider  still  _  more  un- 
suitable, for  every  mountain  in  Tilx't  clothed  with  eternal 
snow  is  called  a  .?««j?r/,  and  the  name  in  this  connection 
would  have  a  meaningless  sound.  Xeither  could  I  accept 
Burrard's  "The  Kailas  Range."  A  name  must  be  found 
suited  to  the  whole  of  this  intimately  connected  association 
of  mountain  ranges,  a  geographical  conception  which  would 
leave  no  room  for  misunderstanding,  and  I  decided  to^  call 
the  whole  system,  the  connection  and  continuity  of  which  I 
had  succeeded  in  proving,  the  Trans-Himalaya. 

Among  English  geographers  many  have  approved  of 
this  name  and  an  equal  number  have  disapproved.  To 
the  latter  category  belongs  Colonel  Burrard,  who  points 
out  thai  for  some  years  back  all  the  regions  lying  beyond  the 
Himalayas  have  been  called  Trans-Himalayan.  And  in  a 
letter  he  has  lately  written  to  me  he  says: 

Pupils  of  Montgomeric  naturally  ask  why  an  old  word  should 
be  given  a  new  meaning  when  it  is  fX)ssible  to  invent  any  number 
of  new  names  for  newly  discovered  mountains.  I  do  not  see  that 
it  is  necessary  to  ^ivc  an  important  name  to  newly  discovered 
mountains.  .\  new  name  will  become  imiwrtant  bttaubt-  of  the 
mountains  to  which  it  is  attached,  and  your  mountains  would  have 
rendered  any  new  name  imj>ortant. 


Kiilii^ 


■li'.'- 


I  iil-Hi'- 


( 1111.1111. 


r.ikkir 


1 


04.     'liii.  I,  \>r  Mi-MiuK-^  m   Till    I,\^f   Kxi'miiiiiN   in   I'mi 


Vi 


^i^-Tri  -?^^i£-"^;r'^:'*'"i'lTf' 


Tv^iS^k-^^   M'  'mi^l  ^ 


;-;*.^-.'^i*2H:V:':^':r#i 


(t 


ir  ' 


ii.'' 


^^j^^^^j^^nw^^^^^- 


LXXlIt 


THE   TRAXS-HI MALAYA 


413 


I  cannot  share  Colonel  Burrard's  vii-w,  for  I  answer  that 
just  IxTausc  of  the  circumstance  that  MontKomcrie's  pupils, 
olVicial-  1  f  The  Survey  of  India  and  pundits,  have  for  tifty 
years  u.id  more  called  the  .ountry  north  of  the  Himalayas 
"The  Trans  Himalayan  rej^ions,"  it  was  incumbent  on  me 
not  to  reject  this  name  for  the  mountain  system  which  can  be 
nothing  else  but  the  Trans-Himalaya  par  cxcillcurr. 

To  give  a  (juotation  from  the  other  side  I  will  here 
reproduce  an  exuression  oj  opinion  from  Lord  Curzon,  for- 
merly Viceroy  of  India,  whose  knowledge  of  Asia  is  unsur- 
passed.    In  the  Geographical  Journal,  April  igcx;.  he  says: 

Alongside  of  this  great  distovery  (Hongha  and  Chokchu)  I  would 
place  the  tracing  for  hundreds  of  miles  and  the  assurance  of  a  definite 
orographical  existence  to  the  mighty  mountain  palisade  or  scries  of 
palisades  to  which  he  has,  in  my  oi)inion  very  appropriately,  given 
the  title  of  the  Trans-Himalaya.  This  range  has  been  surmised  to 
exist  in  its  entire  length  for  many  years;  it  has  been  crossed  at  its 
extremities  by  Littk-dalc  and  by  native  surveyors.  But  it  was 
reserved  for  Dr.  Hedin  to  trace  it  on  the  spot  and  to  place  it  upon 
the  map  in  its  long,  unbroken,  and  massive  significance.  ...  It  is 
no  mean  addition  to  human  knowledge  that  we  should  realize  the 
assured  existence  of  one  of  the  greatest  mountain  masses  in  the 
world.  As  regards  the  name  which  Dr.  Hedin  has  given  to  it, 
I  will  only  say  that  the  desiderata  for  the  title  of  a  new  and 
momentous  geographical  discovery  af){Kar  to  be  these:  (i)  that  the 
name  should  if  [X)ssible  be  given  by  the  {)rincipal  discoverer;  {2) 
that  it  should  not  be  unpronounceable,  unwritable,  over-recondite, 
or  obscure;  (3)  that  it  should  if  ix)ssible  fx)ssess  some  descriptive 
value;  and  (4)  should  not  violate  any  acknowledged  canons  of 
geographical  nomenclature.  The  name  Trans- Himalaya  combines 
all  these  advantages,  and  it  has  a  direct  Central  Asian  analogy  in 
the  Trans-.Alai,  which  is  a  range  of  mountains  standing  in  the  same 
relation  to  the  .Mai  that  Trans- Himalaya  will  do  to  Himalaya.  I 
am  not  in  the  least  impressed  by  the  fact  that  the  name  was  once 
given  to  another  range,  where  its  unsuitability  secured  its  early 
extinction.  .-\ny  attempts  to  substitute  another  title  on  'x  present 
occasion  will,  in  my  opinion,  be  foredoomed  to  failure. 

My  long  journey  backwards  and  forwards  over  the 
Trans-Himalaya  cannot  be  regarded  as  more  than  a 
cursory  and  defective  reconnaissance  of  a  country  hitherto 
unknown.      It  is  easier  to  go  to  Lhasa  with  a  force  armed 


isnv 


tV 


^.^., 


J 


■•-3^*^ 


414 


TkANS-HI  MALAYA 


CHAP.    LXXIII 


\\ 


!l 


1 1    I 


to  thi-  tiTth,  and  shoot  down  fhi'  Tiln-tans  liki'  pheasants 
if  thi-y  stand  in  the  way,  than  to  ( ro»  Tihi-t  in  all  dirn- 
tion>  for  two  lorn  years  with  four  (lovirnmints  and  all  the 
authorities  of  the  land  as  opponents,  twelve  poor  Ladakis 
as  companions,  and  not  a  sin.L^le  man  as  escort.  It  i>  no 
merit  of  mine  that  I  was  lon^  able  to  maintain  a  poMtion 
which  from  the  first  seemed  untenable.  The  same  lu(  ky 
star  looked  down,  as  often  k'fore,  on  my  lonely  course 
through  vast  Asia,  and  it  is  twenty  four  years  since  I  first 
took  up  my  pilgrim  stalT.  I  have  U-en  able  to  follow  and 
lay  down  onlv  the  diief  ^^eo^'raphital  lines;  Ix-tween  my 
routes  many  blank  s|)aces  are  still  left,  and  there  is  sulh- 
cient  detailed  work  for  "generations  of  exjjlorers  and  travellers 
more  thorou^^hly  prepared  and  Ix-tter  equipiK-d  than  my- 
self. 

Go,  then,  out  into  the  world,  thou  rin.umR  and  sonorous 
name  for  one  of  the  world  .->  mightiest  mountain  systems, 
and  find  thy  way  into  geo<,'raphical  text-lxioks,  and  remind 
children  in' the  schools  of  the  snow-crowned  summits  on 
the  Roof  of  the  World,  among  which  the  monsoon  storms 
have  sung  their  deafening  chorus  since  the  beginning.  .\s 
long  as  I  live,  my  proudest  memories,  like  royal  eagles,  will 
soar  round  the  ciild  disolate  crags  of  the  Trans-Himalaya. 


f 

il 


■>!S?Vi. 


CHAI'TKR   LXXIV 


SIMLA 

Like  a  troop  of  k-gpars  and  knights  of  the  road  my  twelve 

servants  and   I  left  Tokchen  un   July   24.      We  had  stayed 

there  nine  davs  with  nothing  to  do  lait    watch  the  monscnm 

rain,  which  l'  had  incautiously  promised  the  natives,  pelting 

down    on    the    hills.     The    authorities   of    the    place  msisted 

this   time   that,   as   wc   were   not    furnished   with   a  passport 

from   Lhasa,   wc   had   no   right   to   make   use   of   the   great 

high-road   to   Ladak,    but    must   turn   back    to   the     interior 

of    Tibet    whence    wc    had    come.      If    I    had    not    already 

had   enough   of   the   great    blank,  I    would    have    agreed    to 

their    demand    with    pleasure,    but    I    was    now    weary    and 

longed   for   home,   and   as   they   refused   the   assistance   and 

the    transi)ort    facilities    we    required,    we    set    out    on    foot 

with  the  baggage  on  our  last  ten  horses  and  mules.      I  had 

still    the   white   horse    from    Kaml)a    Tsenam's   tent    at    my 

disposal.      We    had    no    escort,    for    the    authorities    wished 

to   lie   quite   clear   of    blame    in   case   they   were    called   to 

account.     Rv  the  holy  lake,  where  wc  followed  the  northern 

shore  by  kncjwn  wavs,  we  at  length  found  a  tramp  who  offered 

to  show  us  the  way  to  the  Totling  monastery. 

In  Langbo-nan  I  visited  hastily  the  young  abbot,  as 
svmpathetic  and  good-natured  as  the  year  before,  and  at 
Chiu-gompa  we  met  our  old  friend  Tundup  Lama,  fretful, 
melancholy,  and  wearv  of  his  lonely  cloister  life.  Large 
streams  now  emptied  their  water  into  both  lakes,  and  with 
a  feeling  of  regret  I  left  again  the  scene  of  so  many  precious 
memories.  _      .  ,  . 

Before  we  came  to  the  monastery  of  Tiriapun   wc   had 

4J,S 


y\ 


;? 


':wmmmm'^:m 


416 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


'    I 


!     1 


to  cross  several  of  the  rivers  which  bring  their  tribute 
from  the  Trans-Himalaya  to  the  Sutlej.  Three  of  them 
were  enormously  swollen  after  the  continuous  rains,  and 
rolled  their  volumes  of  grevish-brown  foaming  water  over 
treacherous  blocks.  It  lx)ile(l  and  seethed  Ixtween  the 
cliffs  and  it  carried  along  and  overturned  the  slippery 
boulders.  How  I  trembled  in  mortal  anxiety  lest  the 
harvest  so  laboriously  gathered  in  the  last  long  winter  should 
all  be  lost  l)v  a  single  false  stej). 

We   cam'e   to   the    temple    of   Tirtapuri    in   pouring  rain. 
Lobsang,    (iulam,    Kutus,    Tubges,    Suen,    and    Kunchuk 
were  to  accompany  me   hence  to  Simla,  but   Abdul   Kerim 
and   the  other   five   received   their   pay   and   gratuities,   and 
took  their  wav  home   to   Leh  through   Gartok.      I   did  not 
know    the   road   to   Simla,    but    on   the    map    it   seemed    to 
be  nearer  t.ian  to  Kadak,  and  therefore  I  expected  that  my 
party  would  arrive  first  at  its  destination.      liut  this  road  is 
very  wild  and  romantic,  and  the  land  is  deeply  excavated 
by  the  affluents  of  the  Sutlej,  and  one  might  imagine  that 
one   had   suddenly  been   transported   to   the   canons   of   the 
Colorado.      One  day  we  marched  rapidly  up  an  ascent  of 
3000  feet,  and  the  next  we  went  down  as  far,  so  that  the 
distance  was  at  least  double  as  great  as  it  api)eared  on  the 
map,    and   Abdul    Kerim    reached    Leh    long   Ijeforc    I    \yas 
near  Simla.      Therefore  the  first  news  of  us  came  from  him, 
and  not  from  myself,  and  in  some  quarters  the  worst  fears 
were   entertained   for    my   safety.      It    seemed   strange    that 
my    servants    reached    their    home    safe    and    sound    while 
I  mvself  was  still  missing. 

We  parted  with  floods  of  tears  on  August  i ,  and  my  party 
travelled  past  the  three  monasteries,  Donglx).  Dava,  and 
Mangnang  (Illustration  382),  and  came  to  T(  ling-gompa  on 
the  13th,  near  which  Father  Andrade,  three  hundred  years 
ago,  lodged  in  the  now  decayed  town  of  Tsapjirang.  Here 
I'^met  the  Hindu  doctor  Mohanlal,  who  gave  me  the  first 
news  of  the  outer  world.  Through  him  I  heard,  with  deep 
regret,  of  the  death  of  King  Oscar,  which  had  occurred  more 
than  eight  months  before.  Mohanlal  also  inforrned  me 
of  the  growing  unrest  in  India  and  of  t^he  anxiety  my 
friends  felt   on   rny  accou.it.     Ihakur   jai   Chand  liad   Ixcn 


»5-!3 


.\U    I'l  ri'V. 


I    \Kk  \K     IN     III-     .\  I    A      ll"'.II.     Willi      I'll       Ml--1"\   \i.  II   -      IN      I', 


y 

'  if 
'  il 


sv«B!^m»iiuerc]iiirvjrs^nr', 


1  I' 


'I  I 


^1 . . 


1  ll 


-i^\j-^io^m  "^oiMt-s^^ 


ixyiv 


SIMLA 


4t7 


instructed  by  the  Indian  Government  to  spare  no  efforts 
to  find  out  whether  I  was  still  living  or  not.  He  had  sent 
out  some  Tibetan  freebooters  in  various  directions,  and 
promised  50  rupees  to  any  one  who  could  furnish  any  certam 
information  of  my  fate  —  this  is  the  price  he  valued  me  at. 
Abdul  Kerim  had  reached  Gartok  in  the  best  of  health,  and 
was  summoned  to  the  Garpun,  who  exclaimed:  "Your 
Sahib  is  a  dreadful  man;  he  will  not  be  satisfied  until  I 
lose  my  head!"  Old  Hajji  Nazer  Shah,  who  had  so 
conscientiously   equipped    my    last    caravan,    had    died    the 

preceding  winter.  ,  ,.  ,  .    1 

When  we  left  Tokchen  on   July  24  we  were  delighted 
at  the  thought  that  we  should  at  every  step  l)c  nearer   to 
lower   country   and   a   denser   and   warmer   atmosphere.     A 
month  later  we  were  at  a  greater  height  than  at  Tokchen, 
and  saw  the  country  covered  with  snow,  and  heard  the  nail 
patter  on  our  dilapidated  tents.       But  at  Shipki  wc  again 
set    them    up   in    a   garden   dressed   in   the   rich   beauty   of 
summer,    and    heard    the    wind    murmur    in    the    spreading 
crowns  of  the  apricot  trees.      Shipki  is  the  last   village  in 
Tibet.      From    this    garden    oasis    begins    the    steep    ascent 
to  the  Shipki-la,  which  is  reached  after  attaining  a  height 
of   six   Eiffel  Towers  one   upon   another.      Here   we    stood 
on  the   frontier  between  Tilx-t  and   India.      I  turned  and 
let   my  eyes  roam  once   more   over  these   awfully  desolate 
and     barr  n     mountains     where     my     dreams     had     been 
realized,    and    my    lucky    star    had    shed    a    clearer    and 
more   friendly  light    than   ever  before.      Farewell,   home   of 
wild  asses  and  antelopes,  holy  land  of    the  Tashi   Lama, 
of    Tso-mavang   and   the   Tsangpo,   into   whose   mysterious 
valleys  the  stranger  has  found    his  way  only  by  enduring 
two   Arctic   winters   and    by   drinng   a    flock   of   refractory 
sheep!    I  seemed  to  take  farewell  of  the  best  of  my  youth 
and  the  finest  chapter  in  the  story  of  my  life. 

On  August  28  we  encamped  in  the  village  c.  Poo 
(Illustrations  383,  384),  and  I  spent  two  memorable  days 
in  the  hospitable  house  of  the  Moravian  missionaries. 
Messrs.  Marx  and  Schnalx-1  and  their  amiable  families 
overulnlmed  me  with  kindness,  and  now  I  was  deluged 
with    news   irum   trie   outer  won;;        u   wa^   i!r.-_   iI=^l.<i,.^   «-» 


VOL.  II 


ax 


i 

L 


TIUnKSkCU..  •«K.V  JX 


'  p-'^N-^f   ^'-'.m^-^^n^ 


418 


TRANS-HIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


■       t 


n  I 


U    ! 


r 


I 


the  breakers  on  the  coast  of  the  ocean.  I  had  not  seen 
a  European  for  more  than  two  years,  and  I  looked  mysell 
like  a  TilK'tan  footpad.  But  the  missionaries  ng.t^'cd  me 
out  at  once  in  European  summer  clothes  and  set  an  Indian 

helmet  on  my  head. 

A  few  days  later  we  came  to  Kanam-gompa,  where 
Alexander  Csoma  Korosi  eighty  years  ago  studied  Lamaist 
learning  as  a  monk,  and  more  than  any  one  else  com- 
municated to  the  scholars  of  the  West  the  occult  mysteries 
of  this  religion.  How  silent  and  quiet  our  lite  had  been 
up  on  the  expanse  of  Chang-tang!  Now  the  dizzy  depths 
of  the  valley  are  filled  with  the  roar  of  the  falling  stream, 
and  the  thunder  of  the  water  is  re-echoed  from  the  pre- 
cipitous cliffs.  How  bare  and  scanty  was  the  soil  of  Tibet, 
and  now  we  listen  daily  to  the  whisper  of  mild  brce7x;s 
in  the  deep  dark  coniferous  forests  that  clothe  the  slopes 
of  the  Himalayas.  •      .u        • 

Still    lower    runs    the    road,    still    warmer    is    the    air 
Mv   trusty   friend,    big   shaggy   Takkar.    looks   at    me   with 
questioning    eyes.      He    loves    not    the    summer's    per  umed 
carlands    nor    the    vanr-ated    zone    of    meadows.      He    re- 
members the   free   life   on   the   open   plains,   he   misses   the 
fights  with  the  wolves  of  thi    wiklerness,  and  he  dreams  ot 
the  land  of  everlasting  snowstorms.     One  day  wc  saw  him 
drink  of   a  spring  which  poured  its  water  across  the  path 
and  then  lie  down  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  forest.     He  had 
done  so  many  times  before,  but  we  should  never   sec  him 
repeat    it.      He    turned    and    gallop  d    up    towards    lonely 
Tibet       He    parted    with    sorrow    in    his    heart    from    his 
old   master,    I   knew;  but    he   thought   he   would   ask   the 
missionaries  in  Poo  to  send  me  a  greeting.     One  morning 
he   was  found   lying  outside   the   gate  to  the  court   of    the 
Mission-house,  and,  true  to  his  old  habit,  he  would  let  no 
one  go  in  or  out.     He  was  hospitab'y  received,  and  started 
a  new  life   with   a  chain   round    his  neck.       I   still  receu-e 
from    time    to    time,    through    Mr.    Marx,    greetings    from 
old    Takkar,    who    so    faithfully    defended    my    tent    when 
I    travelled    in    disguise    through    his    own    country    (Ilius- 

traiion   '^^'''>)-  .     _  j-     j      -iU 

In  the  Club  des  Asiatiques  in  Pans  I  once  dined  with 


'  ■! 


'M2 


}rr-jmM-  ^m^^'mw 


'*T?V 


m 


.kiLii 


'1^ 


1 1 


?r 


1 ' 


"t 


m^g^^. 


.^ML. 


LXXIV 


SIMLA 


419 


Madame  Massicu,  who  has  at  complishcd  so  many  wonder- 
ful journeys  in  Asia.  Roland  Bonaparte  and  Henry  of 
Orlcf-ans  were  present,  as  I  vividly  remembered  when  on 
SeptemlxT  7  I  met  the  far  travelled  Parisian  lady  in  the 
station  house  of  Taranda.  We  had  much  to  talk  alxjut 
when  we  contributed  to  the  cost  of  a  common  dinner. 
Untouched  by  years,  youthful  and  enthusiastic,  Madame 
Massieu  afterwards  undertook  a  lx)ld  journey  to  Khatmandu. 

With  growing  uneasiness  I  approached  the  hour  when, 
after  nearly  a  year's  complete  silence,  I  was  again  to  receive 
letters  from  home,  and  I  wondered  whether  I  should  break 
them  open  and  read  them  without  any  cause  for  sorrow. 
The  post  met  me  at  Gaura  on  Septemlx-r  g.  I  read  all 
the  evening,  all  night,  and  all  the  following  day,  and  I  was 
able  to  take  the  last  days'  journey  to  Simla  in  comfort, 
for  I  was  spared  any  untoward  news  and  knew  that 
all  was  well  at  home.  Xow  the  wind  whispered  more 
gently  than  ever  in  the  Himalayan  cedars,  and  the  roar  of 
the  Sutlej  sounded  like  the  roll  of  drums  in  a  triumphal 
march. 

In  Kotgar  I  was  present  at  evensong  in  the  missionaries' 
church.  How  strange  to  hear  again  the  soft  soothing  tones 
of  the  organ,  and  as  an  unworthy  Christian  pilgrim  in  a  Chris- 
tian temple  remember  the  solitude  of  the  past  years. 

The  following  day  I  marched  along  the  road  in  company 
of  my  men  for  the  last  time,  for  near  Xarkanda  a  rickshaw 
met  me,  sent  by  Colonel  Dunlop  Smith.  I  left  them  to  hurry 
on  without  delay,  while  they  were  to  follow  in  the  usual  order 
of  march.  How  pleasant  to  lean  against  the  back  of  the  little 
two-wheeled  vehicle  and  roll  away  at  a  rapid  pace  under  the 
shady  canopy  of  the  deodars ! 

Septemlxr  15  was  a  great  day  for  me.  I  stayed  at  the 
bungalow  of  Fagu,  and  this  camp,  where  I  was  quite  alone, 
was  No.  499.  Simla,  therefore,  would  be  500.  It  felt 
very  strange  to  stand  on  the  boundary  Ix^tween  the  wilder- 
ness and  the  most  refined  civilization.  At  the  breastwork 
of  the  excellent  carriage-road  sat  a  gentleman  in  his  rick- 
shaw; it  was  my  friend  Mr.  Edward  Buck,  Reuter's  corre- 
spondent. This  is  the  beginning,  I  t'nuught ;  and  on  I  went 
on    this    last    day's    journey.      The    fine    imposing    town 


M 


I 


viLS^i^'^^jim^' 


420 


TRANS-IIIMALAYA 


CHAP. 


t     i 


h 


'I  !li  I 

5 


appears  in  the  distance  on  the  slopes  of  its  hills  and  the 
white  houses  peep  out  from  among  the  trees  (Illustration 
287)  A  young  maiden  takes  a  snap  of  us  with  her  camera, 
hut  it  is  early  in  the-  morning,  and  withcnit  further  adven- 
tures we  take  refuge  at  a  gentleman's  outlitters,  for  in 
M)ite  of  the  clothes  from  Poo  1  mu>t  undergo  a  comi)letc 
renovation  Ix-fore  I  can  present  myself  Uf<;re  the  d.wrs  of 

the  Viceregal  Lodge.  ,      ,t     t   u    1   i    1    f^. 

What  a  total  contrast  to  the  lonely  life  I  had  led  tor 
two  long  years!  On  Sei.teml)cr  16  a  State  ball  t.K)k  place, 
and  I  heard  again  the  crunching  sound  on  the  sand  ol  the 
court  as  innumerable  rickshaws  lx)re  guests  to  the  bail. 
Rustling  silk,  glittering  jewels,  brilliant  uniforms  -in  an 
unbroken  line  the  elite  of  Simla  pass  bc-tween  satellites 
with  their  tall  turbans  and  shining  lances.  (.od  save 
the  King!  Followed  by  his  staff  Their  Kxcellencies  enter, 
and  open  the  dance  to  the  notes  of  a  waltz  of  Strauss.  It 
was  just  as  in  May  1906,  and  the  twenty  eight  months 
that  had  intervened  seemed  to  me  like  a  strange  fantastic 

'^'^The  first  days  I  staved  in  the  house  of  my  noble   old 

friend  Colonel  Dunlop  Smith,  and  had  now  an  opportunity 

of  thanking  him  and  his  amiable  ladies  for  the  trouble  they 

had   taken   in  connection   with  the   consignment   to   Oartok 

the    year    before.      Then    I    moved    over    to    the    Viceregal 

Lodge,   and   again   enjoyed   the   same   boundless   hospitahty 

with    Lord   and    Lady    Minto.      From    my   window    I    saw 

again,   sharp   and   clear,  the   crests  of   the   Himalayas,   and 

beyond   the   mountains   and   valleys  of  Tibet  stretched  out 

in   a   boundless   sea.      What   wealth   and    luxury!      I   lived 

like  a  prince,  walked  on  soft  rugs  and  meditated,  lay  and 

read    Swedish    journals    in    a    deep    soft    bed,    by    dectnc 

light    and  liathed  in  a  porcelain  bath,  attended  by  Hindus 

in  the  viceregal  livery -1,  who  had  lately  gone  in  rags  and 

tended  sheep.  ,.  , 

On  September  24  a  hundred  and  fifty  ladies  and 
<rentlemen  in  full  dress  were  assembled  in  the  State  room 
r„  fhi^  \\rcr,Hja,\  hn(\m:  The  occasion  was  a  lecture,  and 
on  "the  dais  '"huniT  with  gold  embroidered  brocade,  where 
the    thrones    usuauy    stand,    was    set    up    a    large    map    of 


Iiii    l,\.>i    Ml  Mi'.i  K-  'K    III!    !Ai'H>mii^    VI    nil    Iairwci 

\  I.   I  kK.  \l      \.'l',>i-\      l\    ^Ull.  X. 


ft 


t  II 


I  i 


!ll 


>i 


r 


■•—^ —'-•'■'"'—•"'""•— "■'■"*'  ""■•''  — — -  laj- 


LXXIV 


SIMLA 


421 


Tibet     The  front  scats  were  occupied  by  the  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  the  In.iian  Army.  Lord   Kit  hener  of   Khartum 
tie  Governor  of  tia-  Panjab.  the   Maharajas  of  Alwar  and 
Gwalior,  and  among  the  quests  might   l)e   seen  generals  and 
superior    onkers.    State    secretaries,    men    of    science    and 
mem>crs   of   the    diplomatic   corps   then    present    m    Simla. 
Th^    Military     Secretary,     Colonel     \'ictor     Brooke,     came 
/onvard    and' announced    the    arrival    of    the    Viceroy  and 
lady    Minto.       I    was    trembhng    with    stage    fnght,    but 
before    I    knew    anvthing    ab<^ut    it.    my    opening    word.s 
•'Your     Excellencies.     Ladie.     an.l     (1.  ntlemen.'      sounded 
through     the     brilliant     s;doon,     a    '     then     followed     an 
account   of   my   last   journey       It    .as  one   "^l"^*;^    "     ^^ 
morning    Ix-fore    I    concluded,    and    alter    a    ^<'^  /•f^^""« 
speech  from  Lord   Minto  the  guests  withdrew  to  the  late 

^"^Mv    six    Ladakis    and    -ur    seven    remaining    animals 
stavTd    in    a    serai    below    the    palace.     I    often    went    and 
alked   to   them,  and  played   awhile  with    my  old  travelling 
companion    Little    Fup'.y.     But    the    time    passed    quickly 
and^oon  the   last   day   came      I   ^"^  traced  and    squeezed 
Little  Puppv,  stroked  his  head,   and  found   it  hard  to  tear 
mvself    awky:     He    was    put    out    by    his    master's    elegant 
co'stume,  and  had  a  melancholy    (luestioning   expression,   as 
though  he  suspected  that  the  bond  between  us  ^^•as    "osed 
and  that  we  should  never  see  each  other  again.    We  had 
shared  everything  in  common  from  the  time  he  was  born 
below  the  snowy  Karakorum  pass,  and  to  part  from  dogs 
is  the  hardest  trial  of  all;   to  bid  men  farewell  is  not  so 

"^'^  aTou.^  arrival  in  Simla  I  had  given  them  60  rupees 
each  for  new  clothing,  and  in  the  bazaar  they  had  found 
some  old  cast-off  uniforms  with  bright  "^^tal  buttons 
which  they  thought  grand  and  becoming.  On  the  neck 
lappets  were  the  words  "Guard,  London  S.VV  Railway  , 
and  how  they  found  their  way  to  India  I  do  not  know^ 
But  in  these  uniforms  and  in  red  fezzcs  my  men  assembled 
in  the  palace  court  on  the  last  day  of  September  (lUustra- 
.j-  -agN  TK„,r  ,v^r^  allowed  to  keep  our  seven  horses 
and   mu/es,   saddles,   tents,   skin   coats,    l>ed   furniture,   and 


md 


TRANS-IIIMALAVA 


CBAP. 


,      ! 


1 


423 

cvirvthinK.  Mv  white-  horse-  they  were  to  sell  in  I..h 
an.r.iivi.lc  the'nrice.  (lulam  took  charge  of  LiUU'  I  uppy, 
an<l  unckrt.K.k  U.  see  that  hv  .lid  not  sulTcr  want  m  the 
future  it  was  like  hreakinu  up  an  oM  home.  HeMcles 
his  pav,  every  man  received  a  present  of  lOO  rupees  and 
their  expense's  to  l.eh  f..ur  times  over.  Lord  and  Lady 
Minto  .ere  present  at  the  la>t  farewell,  and  the  Xueroy 
math-  tnem  a  short  ( tieery  speech.  It  was  a  sa<  l-artinK, 
and  even  the  calm  LobsanK,  who  was  amazed  at  the 
wealth  and  splen.lour  of  Simla,  wept  like  a  child  as  with 
heavy  -tei)  he  follour.l  his  comrades  down  to  their  waitinj^ 
animals.  "What  faithfulness!  what  devotion!"  exclaimed 
Lady  Mint.)  with  feeling;    "their  tears  are  more  expressive 

than   words."  ,       ,.■  i    i  „j„ 

At  the  k-ginninR  of  Octolx-r  the  Viceroy  and  Lady 
Mint.)  set  out  on  an  excursion  inf.  the  mountains  and 
after  a  heartv  farewell  and  warm  thanks  for  all  the  kindness 
thev  had  sh.')wen-d  on  me,  I  remained  l..neiy  and  forlorn  m 
the'ereat  l.akuv.  Mv  >te;imer  would  not  leave  Hombav  for 
a  week,  and  I  was'  .leli.t'htcd  to  Ik-  the  guest  of  Lonl 
Kitchener  in  his  residence  Snowdcn  during  the  five  days 
I  was  vet  to  stav  in  Simla.  I  shall  never  forget  these 
davs  Siv  room  'was  decorated  with  llowers,  and  on  a 
table  stood  fourteen  lx)oks  on  Tibet,  chosen  from  the 
General-s  library  to  supply  me  with  entertaining  reading. 
With  the  aides-de-cami)  Captains  Wylhe  and  Basset, 
merry  fellows  and  good  comrades,  we  lived  like  four 
bachelors,  to..k  breakfast,  lunch,  and  dinner  together  and 
spent  the  evening  in  the  billiard-room,  on  the  mantelpiece 
of  which  was  the  appropriate  motto,  "Strike,  and  fear  not 

In    the   afternoon    the   General   took   me   out   along   the 
road   leading   to  Til)et.     We   then   talked   of   the   future   o 
Europe  and  Asia  and  Africa,  and  I  gaine(    a  greater  insight 
than    I    had    ever   done    before    in'o    Lord    Kitcheners    liie 
and  work  in  Egypt.  , 

But  the  davs  at  Snowdon  also  came  to  an  end  and  on 
October  II.  when  the  i)eople  were  tlocking  to  church,  1 
was  driven  by  the  victor  of  Africa  to  the^  station,  where 
I  look  a  last  farewell  of  the  man  Un  whose  e.\piOitr^  1 
have   alwavs   felt   a    Ijoundless   admiration.     At   Summerhili 


LXXIV 


SIMLA 


423 


station,    below    the    Vict-rcK'^il    I-'"'P''-    ^    t'xcharmcd    a    la-t 
>hakf  of  the  hami  with  my  <ltar  friind  I)unl(.|)  Smith,  a 


arvi 


then    thi-    white    lunisis   <• 
an'l    the    train    nilled   down 
great  lonely  sea. 


f   Simla    vani>hed    in    thi-    di>t:inif 


to   the   heat   of    India   and   the 


I 


,^i.viaBn  r^Aar,!? 


i  s 


'8 


INDEX 


Abbot,  a  twelve-year-old,  ii.  i6,^ 
Abdul  Kerim,  my  caravan  leader,  ii.  326; 
error  of,  as  to  (oranc,  a4';  assumes  r6li- 
of  master  of  ta.avan,  jiji,  344;  ideas  as 
to  the  time  of  day,  303;  despatched  m 
charge  of  second  divisicjn  of  caravan  to 
the  Tarok-tso,  371;  anxiety  as  to  where- 
abouts of,  3g6;  arrives  at  our  tamp  at 
Ratse,  399;  bid  farewell  to,  with  other 
live  of  my  followers,  4>6 

Absi,  peak  of  the  Kubi-gangri,  ii.  loa 

Abuk-la  pass,  ii.  31)6 

Adam,  Colonel,  military  secretary  to  the 
Viceroy,  i.  i& 

Age,  average,  of  caravan,  i.  53 

"Aid,"  Mohammedan  festival  celebrated 
in  camD,  i.  iqi 

Ak-,ai-chin,  lake,  unannexed  region  of,  1. 
rn,  <)>,  <i8;  ii-  2f;H 

Alchi,  dangerous  bridge  at,  i.  44 

Alexander  the  Griai.  i.  3;   ii.  J13 

Amban  l-ien  VU,  oi  l.ha-.a,  i.  393,  400 

Amthcn  la  pa^^,  ii.  ,(<)'' 

Amchi  lama  (monk-doctor),  tent  temple  of, 
ii.  Jo6 

Amthok  tang,  plain,  ii.  36 

Amchok  ISO,  lake,  ii.  .^6;  camp  at,  y;: 
shallowness  of,  3~<-,  soundings  on,  39 

Amchok  yung,  village  of,  ii.  36 

Amchung  countr>',  ioleresling  information 
acquired  in,  ii.  33^ 

Aniitabha,  the  Tashi  Lama  the  incarnation 
of,  i.  326 

Amusements,  Tibetan,  i.  j^: 

Anchar,  late,  i.  32 

Angden  la  piiss,  cairn  with  prayer-streamers 
on,  ii.  34;  paroramic  view  from,  31;; 
not  situated  on  same  range  as  the 
Samye  la,  330 

Angsi  chu,  river,  ii.  104 

"AnteloiK  Plain,"  name  given  by  Captain 
Deasv,  1.  14 » 

Antelope.s,  i.  02.  114,  "75;  "•  S^,  '"'< 
38j;  methocl  of  snaring,  i.  374;  "•  '"), 
186 

Aong  tsangpo,  river,  ii.  399 

Archery  and  shooting  competitions  on 
horseback,  i.  343 

Argok-tso,  laki-,  ii.  400 

Arnold,  The  Light  oj  Asia,  quotation  from, 

ii.  io6 
Arport-Lso,  lake,  crossing  of  ice  of,  ii.  J63 


Arung-kampa,  deserted  village  of,  i.  aSo 
As>es,  wild,   upright  position  of  froien,   ii. 

95;  great  herds  met  with,  185 
Atkinson,  Mr.  E.  '1.,  work  by,  cited,  ii.  40J 

Bailey,  Lieutenant,  Acting  Resident  at 
Gvangtse,  i.  J55 

Halls,  State,  in  Simla,  i.  17;   11.  4»o 

Baltal,  i.  38 

Bando,  camp  at,  ii.  83 

Harley,  roasted,  a  delicacy,  ii.  14 

Haroiig  la  pass,  ii.  30 

Hasang  valley,  camp  in,  ii.  46 

Hiisgho  gompji,  monastery,  i.  44 

Bed,  method  of  making  my,  i.  150 

Hen  la  pass,  storm  on,  ii.  34 

Hesant,  Mrs.  Annie,  i.  30 

Bibles,  the  Tibetan,  in  library  of  Tashi- 
lun[)0,  i.  333;  in  Tashi-gembe,  41a 

Biographical  details  of  caravan,  i.  151-153 

Birch  bark,  dream  suggested  by,  ii.  95         . 

Boat,  our  portable,  1.  38;  successful  tnp 
of,  107;  description  of  Tibetan,  a88 

Bogtsang  tsangix),  the,  camp  at.  i.  aoj; 
interview  with  chief  of  district,  305; 
geographical  information  obtained,  ao6; 
erratic  course  of,  307 

Bokar  valley,  ii.  3i3 

Bombo,  or  district  chief,  i.  363 

Bongba,  province  of,  ii.  304;  tension  of 
journey  through  the,  313;  names  of  the 
twelve  districts  of,  3S8 

Bongba-changma,  district  of,  ii.  304 

Bongla-chushar,  district  of,  ii.  379 

Hongba-kebyang,  district  of,  ii.  388 

Bongba-kemar,  district  of,  ii.  334,  389 

Bonglia-kyangrang,  high-road  to  Lapchung 
through,  ii.  387 

Brahmaputra,  the,  valley  of,  i.  381;  wel- 
come news  received  at,  383;  monasteries 
of,  383;  conBuence  of  the  Chaktak 
tsangpo  with,  ii.  48;  measurements  and 
ratios,  49;  junction  of  the  Tsa-chu- 
tsangpo  with,  and  measurements,  74; 
possible  diversion  of,  78,  varying  volume 
of,  88;  Nain  Sing  on  its  sources,  89; 
Webbers  confusing  statement  as  to  the 
origin  of,  89;  Ryder's  map  of  valley  of 
upper,  90;  source-streams  of,  90-^5; 
author's  determination  of  its  source  m 
Kubi  gangri.  96,  loi;  we  bid  farewell 
to,  105 


4*5 


426 


INDEX 


'li 


1  \ 


1^ 

"  ii 


Itritish  Oovcrnmrnt,  rhrincr  of,  1    4;   jrfu-i- 

pirini-Mon  lo  int.  r    I  lUt  fioni  liuli.i,   7. 

t\,s.  I  .I'.itiDU-  i«'li'  y  i)f,  10,  V)'; 
llii,  I.  Mr    i.ilw.ir.l.  u    -•  1  ',   H') 
liud.llii,  MDiK-  iik:"!'^  "I.  •''    "'■■'■•  '     '''■ 

,.,sHirc.,f,  in  sl.itui-  .iiM  |.i.ium-,  u    10 
Ilii.l.lhiMii,    ihtroiludil    iM<i     lil'l,    I-     i',-- 

|.ri^cr\.itioii  oi   lili    .1   liii.'l.iimr.l.il    |.iiii 

i  ii.li-  oi,   lii  .      , 

lli.k.i  iii.ii:iui,  nioui.t.iiii  -yliiii,  i-  I'M 
ll.imiiak  ilii],  riviT,  ii.  11  ,    ■         , 

liuii  thu  ls.inKI">.   'iMT,   mourns  (il,   1.    ^7''. 

ionlUii-iui   with  thi'  My  .  hii,  )Pi 
liiiiit^.  IK  l-;iii>;i«.,    nv.r,    11.     !-•;,     xiinry 

of,    w''.    >'^   hr.ulw;inrs,   .i.'7.    i-""I'   '•>' 

the,  V"^<)  .. 

Hu|)VUii«  ring  v.illcv,  l«  auty  i)f,  "■  .W7 

of  Ih.  Suil.j,  li.  .^7;  l"^'*'  '■>■  '«•'>'''•" 
,irul,  mciilion.Ml,  40-t;  <li-.i|'l""\'^s  ol 
aiilh(,r\    UM'  of    till-    iiaim-    1  ..i"-Hi>na 

liur'r.n'n^ln  >t  Willcom.',  Ixjmlcn,  im-.|i,ine- 
ihist  prt-^cTUol  i'y,  i-  "•).  ':'■  "]}' 
otTi-rinK    to    the     I  a^hi    I.ama,    jit);     11. 

•JO  .  ■      , 

Uusir  t->angl>o,  rivir,  11.  201 

••CM  of  the  wildirtuss,"  the,  i.  i 

r.ilv.rt,  Ml.,  rrosso  Juktila  l>ass,  n.  ii5. 

40i 
("amii,  our  tl^^t,  1.  i^ 
I'amp  lift-,  routine  of  our,  1.  150;    1  il)ttan, 

ii.   i'-7 
Caii-pUll  llanncrman.     Sir     Hinry,     1.     4 

tili;;rani^  sent  liy  author  to,  >,  .V)0 
Canillrs,  Christmas  trie  of,  i.  2  1) 
Caravan,  our,  eipiii>i.iint  of,  i.  3.-<.  ^.!. 
trouhle-onic  iiu  mU  rs,  ,iS;  l.ioijraphi.  al 
details,  m.-i<n;  re.irr,i)ii;.-m.nt  of,  !'•'•; 
home -il  knrss  in,  ii.  (12,  67;  tliree 
memlxrs  <!ismis-eil,  <'■,:  their  reinstate 
ment,  73;  n.lvi.lion  at  l,.k<h<n,  107; 
reori;ani/ation  of,  no.  preparation  ol 
new,  for  fre>h  exiniiition,  jii,  S2<i,  22^. 
heavy  lia^'i;ai;e  ■sent  Uu  k  t.i  l.eh,  220; 
ivirtinR  with  Kol»rt  and  Kul.  D.is,  22'r. 
NIohaninu-dan  festival,  2(>o-.  losses  and 
siikaess,  2()s .  suiktiIuovis  Ui^uane 
sacriliiell,  2()o.  270.  2S2;  directions  to, 
274,  mv  hidinj;  i>lafe  in,  .14S;  festivities 
in  honiHir  of  C.overnor  of  Saka,  I'lS; 
divided  into  two  parties,  ,71;  eoml>ine(l 
.UMin.  400;  \r.\niut!.  uith  n-y  .aravan 
liailer  and  lompanioiis,  .iih;  farewell 
to     remainder     of     followers     111     Smil,., 

Cissils,  Mr  ,  iiresent  of  tea  from,  11.  170 

I  'hahuk-tso.  Like,  ii.  322 

t'hak  1  honi  la  pass,  i.  ni 

I  liakko,    hi'ly    sprint?,    miraculous    (lowers 

attributed  lo,  ii    loft 
Chaklam  la  pass,  li,   ;oX 
Ch.iktak  tsanKiKi,    'ivir,    li      4' 

tions    for    e\i  ur-ion    to,    47. 

with    the     Hr.ihmaputra,    aX 

mrnis  and  ratio-,  40,  ''  = 

wards   along,    65.     lamp 


prep.ira 

lonlliM  ;i.  e 

me, IS.. II- 

journey  north 

attain    ori,  JJ5; 


eastward    man  h    aionp    north    bank    of, 

5  i"  .    return  to,  171 
Chatiio  lunt;-(h.  n  i  dli  v,  ii.  un 
(  All  lie',  or  native  Ui  r.  i.  'is 
('liaii).'.i,  village  of,  i    <>,i 
(  haiii;  wirnmo    valley,    bivouae    at,    1.    79; 

'•■  ^." 
ChaiiRla    pass,    i.    '14-,     altar   »"n    praver- 

-Irianiers  on  summit  of,  <>t) 
Ciani;  la     I'lxl  la    I'-'~\     mianinK    of    the 

term,  ii.  II).  tampon,  20 
IhaiiH  lii"H  ''•"■"'•'  vallry,  1.  .■  1 
Hunt;  lur-K  vo^ma   valley,  1.    Si,   H4;    dilti- 
ciJties   in,    S2;     lamp   and   rest    in,    tii; 
sunshine    and     inow,     .H3,      maiemUcent 
landseaiic  of,  Hs;  ,  ■      j 

('h.iiiKias,   liUtan  nomads,  i.  iiij;    fnend- 
lini-.s   <if,    >S2,    i.>^.'<;     habits   and    tastes, 
1.S4;    skill  in  hunting,   i''>5;    hard  life  of, 
is()[   dis|«>sal  of  their  dead,  i.'<7 
Chaun-shunt;,    a    headwater   of   the    tvaga- 

tsantiim,  ii.  41 
ChanR  tant?,     the,    drspi-ratf    situation     in, 

i    if)2-   our  suicessful  ero-sinRof,  210 
Chang    \in    Tant;,   Chinese   Comnassioner 
in     lilxt,    eorres|X)ndince    with,    1.    39J, 
31)7;  ii.  42,  70, 
Chapka  la  pass,  1    2V) 
Charvak,  lamp  at,  ii.  234 
Cheya  t'ompa  temple,  i.  2S0 
Chema  vundun^',    river,    ii.    QO,    105;     mea- 
surement of  disihartje,  gi 
Chima  yundunK  pu.  hi-ighl.s  of,  ii.  02 
I'henmo,  iul/Jjr  of   Tankse,  i.  73,  H? 
Clierfip  fiompa       mona-stcry,      lis       single 

monk,  ii.  i'>5 
Cherok,  ili-triit  of,  ii.  88 
Chisaiiij  la  juss,  intense  cold  on,  1.  274 
(  hhorlrn,  or  stone  monument,  i.  42 
Clii  Chao  Nan,  translation  of  passage  from 
his    work    on    soune    of    the    Sutlfj,    it. 
ih,;   airur.iey  of  his  statements,  1.H3 
Chikum,  view  from  camp  at,  ii.  «3 
Chimre  monastery,  i. ')4 

t'hinrse  (lovernmint,  messages  from,  1. 
3,si,,  3(|i;  imiKirtanee  of  suprcmai  y  in 
'I'iUt'to  the,  30')-.  s|h-i  imen  of  <liplo^ 
matic  lorresiondenie,  31)7;  lourtesy  01 
olVii  i.ds  to  author,  400 
Chinese  iiassjiort,  dVicaiV  of  my,  i.  2og 
Chilli  I '.ikang.    nuns'    temjiorary    quarters, 

Tashi-luniK),  i.  3'7  .. 

Cliiptu  la  pass,  piU-rim  route  over,  11.  3X8 
t  hiu  t;ompa    monastery,    visits   lo,    ii.    159. 

4<^ 

Choikarsh"ng  ihu  valley,  11.  75  . 

Chokchu,    I    rava.i    t.iund    for,    met    with, 

1.  270:    the  Governor  of,  ii.  399 
Choma  taka,  cave  of,  li.   i.< 
Chomo-sumdo  vallev,  camp  in,  11.  16 
Ihomo  uchong,    "High     Nun,"     ndge    of, 

ii.  41,  US.  344,  3"> 
Chont'-vangal,  I  amp  at,  11.  2  i2 
Christni.is,     our     celebration     of,     1.      Jio; 

I  .iilaki  h\mn  and  dames  at,  220,    trans- 

la'ion   of    hymn   sung  at,    221;    compan- 

-on  of  dilTirent  years,  ii.  248 
Cliugge  lung  valley,  i.  271 


INDEX 


427 


Chungsann,  a  tributary  of  the  TsariRpo, 

Chiinit  tso.   lakr,   11.   ,)jj,    .^^;;    warm 

phur  sprint?  at,   ^i? 
Church  fiMiv.il-.,  I.amaist,  i.  ,501 
Churu  iKwl,  ramp  at,  ii.  67 
Chuta  ili^itriil,  sulphurous  sprinp's  in.  I 
C'hvkvint,,  thr  (iova  i)f,  ii.   lu,   Uf> 
C'lc'anlini-.s,  l.ailaki>'  iontim[it  fur,  i 


sul 


as>i-tanii' 


furr.i-h 


C'o<  kliurn's    Aci-nc  y 

inR  and  lran>ii()rt,  i.  jS 
Consul  of  NciKil,  thr,  ■,   (oi,  }:^ 
Corrcs(ion<lcnrf,  arranKrnuiits  for  forwanl 

inc.  i.    7J,   Hi,   .■>;,    lou    wilmtne  arrival 

of,  '  at   'thr    NKanKt-sf  tso,    2,4;     ami    at 

ShiRatso,   177 
Confr,     sv*l(  m     of,     rxaitol     on      1  ilxtan 

high  roa'i«,  ii.  ^iH 
"Cripple,"     our     f.uthful     lanine     fo!low(  r, 

i.  jft? 
Crosliv,  expedition  of,  referred  to.  i    <}'<. 
Cur/o'n,     Lord,     1  n.  oura^;inl;     Wlter     from, 

i.    .1;     liavrs    India,    .1;     on   author's    u.se 

of  name   Irans  Himalaya,  ii.  41.^ 

DaiJtse  tso,  i.  J17 

DahlKr<n,     Dr.     K.    \V.,    si.itrmrnt    liy.    as 

to  w.ill  ma(>s  in  \eni(e,  li.  40') 
Dalai    I-ima   (Gvaljio   Kin[«<het.   rowar.lly 

flinht    of,    i.    /41,    .toft-,     his   sphere   <om- 

pared  with  that  of  the    1  ashi  l..im.i.   tJ.l, 

disastrous  |«)liiy  of,  t2t 
Dal-dervaseh,  laiial  journey  from,  i     tJ 
Ual(?lcish,     Mr,     nionummt    to,     in     I.ih, 

'•  ^'>'  ... 

Dambak-rong,      vallev      junttion,      u       70; 

letter  from  the  Tanf?  Uarin  received  at, 

70 
Damchu,  nver,  n.  iHi 
t)amm  valley,  ii.  70 
Va>itl\.  or  averaj-'e  man's  load.  i.  it,t, 
Dane.  Sir  lx)uis,  interview  with,  1    7,  .' i 
Danglie  <h'.i,  riv(  r,  i.  27') 
DanKl>e  la  pas-,  i,  277 
Dangra  vum  ts...   lake,   jxtmission   to   vi-il. 

rofu.sed.  i.   347,   2S''.    reputed  salinity  of, 

ii.   2<>.    shajx-  and  extert  of,  20;    liili'rim 

routes    round,    m;     Nain    Sink's    nonii  n 

clature   of   district,    so.      proposed    dish 

for,  3R2 
D'.Xr.ville,    maps    by,    referred    to,    11      is;. 

186.  ^17,  401 
Dapsanp,  on  the  heiehts  of,  ii    24H;    (  hri^t 

mas  Uix  tor  the  anim.ils  at.  2^1 
Daya    Kishen     Kaul.    private    secretary    t.. 

Mahar.ija  of  Ka.shmir,  assistance  ren<li t'  •! 

bv,  i.  24,  2*< 
Dead,  barbarous  disposal  of  the,  i.   170 
Deanc,  Sir  Harold,  i.  1  s 
Dcasy,     Captain,     "Fever    Camp"     of,     i 

120;    baeeage  and  provisions  left   by,  at 

Yeshil  kul,  1  2H 
"Deasv    (Jroup,  '    mountain    mass.    ,      iji, 

Dilma  la  p...is,  pilgrim  otTerinL's  on,  11.   2'. 
f)rna  Ihakang   •   niple.    'I'.i-M  liin|M).    i.     .''i 
Denlistrv,  drasti.   forri  of,  ii.   .24 
Devashung.     Hee  Tibetan  Government 


Devotional    exercises    of    pilgrims,    Ta.shi- 

lun[Ki.  i     1^7 
Dii  ha  la  pass,  importance  of  watershed,  11. 

Dikf^i  kjrriiik,  or  test  stone   for  sinners,   11. 

Ding  la,    the    highest    [ass    crossed    in    our 

journey,  11.  400 
f)inner.  State,  at  Simla,  i.  12 
l)iri  pu  ii.,;nastery,  my  tent  pitched  on  rcxjf 

o(,  ii.  11)1 
Disguise,  assumed  by  author,  ii.  277 
Dogs  [luppies  taken  with  [wirty,  i.  .14. 
frolic  of,  17,  '12,  fto,  7-1.  M.l,  i?4i  ii- 
14,  41;  frcmi  I'obrang  .iiided  to  carr  -i, 
i.  74;  lie-ertid  by  one  of  our,  7  .  a 
splendid  feast,  io.-<;  loss  of  two,  ;-'). 
two  new  followers,  2^1;  an  interesnng 
event,  V");  illness  and  death-s  of,  ii.  Os, 
ft;,  71.  3si;  another  hal'py  event,  21H; 
hiss  of  Hrown  Tupjiv,  201,  .101;  purchase 
of  l.ikk.ir,  ,10=.  '  little  l'upi>>'s  first 
e:ipc,-icme  of  ruri-ing  water,  ,114.  lak- 
kars  avowal  of  alfection,  iicj  a  sorrow- 
ful firtira-,  41U  .,,..., 
Dojas  chiml«,     court     in      lashilunpo,     1 

loS 
Dokang   vallev,    ramp  in,   i.    J7q;     1  ilxtan 

jmliteness  in,  2K0 
Dok.hu  (Kaga-lsangpo\  river,  voyage 
throuiih  rapi'is  of,  i  4>>*;  il-s  confluence 
wilh  the  Ilrahmapiitra,  4''(.  rockdraw-- 
ings  in  vallev  of,  422;  junction  with 
the    Mv  chu,    422.     head    sources   of,    ii. 


■lonasterv.     mentioned. 


4' 

Dcil.hu-gompa 

1-2.  1X7 
Dole  gom|)a  nunnerv.  i    421) 
Doncihen  ^i  pass.  wiM  shec  p  on  the,  "■  ,?Ho 
Dor.L'dong,  glaciers  of  the,  11.  c)2;    praks  of 

thi'.  101 
Doi'^'ii.o  rhu,  river,  ii.  10 
Dopsirnia,     island    of    the    Langak  tso,    11. 

1 7S 
Dorab  la  pass.  ii.  71; 

/).ir./i.-.  or  emblem  oi  thunderbolt,  i.   ii.** 
Don  he    Tsuen,    Governor    of    Saka  d/one. 

discussion    of    my    return    route   with,    ii 

5i;;n;ri,  164;    i.amp  festivities  in  honour 

of.  ihx;    bid  fan-w'll  to,  ,170 
Do-tsenizkan,  mountain,  ii.  .ri 
Dras,  river,  i.  .10;    stone  figures  of  Hudilha 

near,   i.    j'j ;    junction   with  (he  Wakkha, 

■*°  .     ■        (. 

Drugub,  i.  ft7 ,    our  new  caravan  at,  11    120; 

salt  c  arav.in  at.  22>* 
Dsatio.  title  of  ulTiiial  in  Chngha,  i.  416 
Dsalurg  la  pass,  iirjiurtance  of.  ii.  iNS 
Duan  Suen,  Chine  e  ofTiiial  in  Shigatsf,  i- 

20K.    ISH  . 

fluff.  General  Sir  Ileaur  hamp,  1     16 
Dufou'.  map  bv,  ii    4eft 
Dumlok  tso,  lake,  i    2\<t 
DuniTtsa  tsO,    lake,    our     camp    visited     by 

liUtans  at,  i.  102 
DiiiiL'  veila'-  ,  O.I  .is  of.  ii.  21,1 
Di'ik.i  la     [ass,     view     of     the     Shuru-tso 

from.  ii.    . 


Ei^B?^*- 


mrt 


I  ! 


428 


INDEX 


Uunlop  Smith.  Colonrl  J.  R,  private 
srcirtary  to  Viceroy,  1.  11,  arraiiRrs  .1^ 
to  mv  (i)rrrs|K.i:<lrrn.c,  10.1;  litlir  lu. 
from  '  Toki  hf n,  11.  107;  fon-i^:nmrnt 
from,  rra(hf->  ti.irtok,  jj,?;  h<)S|iit,ility 
in  Simla,  420;    R("-l  byr  to,  4H 

IJunlunn  v,illi-y,  ii-   ■<<) 

Dunlun«<lo,   viUry  jun<tinn,  11.    lOl 

Dufkani;,  or  hfrmilanc,  li.  2 

Uutrruil  (le   Khiii-,   i  re  rich  ruiilorrr,  1.  4^ 

I>t,mi;,  or  town   with   resident  c'jvornor,   i. 
Diuwh    village,    medicinal    springs    at,    i. 

Kagles,  i.  3og 

h.arthquake  at  Selipuk,  11.  100 

Kclipse    of    the    sun,    incidents    ol    the,    1. 

Klectrifity,  Kencration  of,  by  driftsand,  ii. 

Klcr>h,int,  a  uniciue,  i.  it')  ,   ,■     u 

Kmir  Sing,  brother  of   Maharaja  of   Kash- 
mir, i.  it> 
Kiniipnient  of  caravan,  1.   iS,    .,y,    11.   iU 
KMiirl,  our  I'athan  and  Kajpm,  i.  i".    "ur 
'Iilx-tan,  404,  424;    insiKCtion  of,  »■    1". 
fre-h,    from    K\angdam,    ai;     route   .Us 
russ.d  with,  ji;    the  Governor  ol  Sak.i 
ilzong  supplies  milit.iry,  ,^b% 
Kspionage,  system  of,  i.  ,17') 
KuroiM-ans,    Tiliet.in    di-trust     of.    1.     JOi; 
iron   statues  of,   in   •I'.ishigrmlic   moii.is 
tcrv,   413;    imreased  stringency  of  regu 
lalions  regarding,  li.  35<> 

Fagu,  bungalow  of.  ii    410 

Family  ties,  lixiseness  of  Titx-tan.  1.  373 

Kirld-mi(r,  treacherous  hoi.  s  of,  1.  <)3,  go, 

147,  ji=;,  33t.    ii     ;>-•   '')" 
Kirrworks,  dispi.iy  of,  .it  Sriiiagar,  1.  27 
Food    supplies,    .aliulaiions    and    estimates 

of,  i.  73 
Fox,  surprise  of  a.  i    14^ 
Franrke,  I'astor  .\    II  .  i    =;4 
l-rilhiof'^  .Sjrd,  quotation  from,  ii.  11 
l-roding,  quotation  from,  11.  0 
Frost  bite,   heartles.s  desertion  of  victim  of, 

ii.  240 
Funeral  custom.',  gruesome,  1.   \t>q 


Game,    abundance    of. 


so 


77.     105.      'I- 
410 


Oandin-choding,  nunnery  of, 
("..inii.irbal,  first  ..imp  at,  i. 

of  car.ivan  from,   is 
Oang  luni;,  nmunl.iin.  ii.  100.  1  jq 
("i.ing  lung  chu,  river,  ii.  los,  120 
Ganglung  gangri     range,    direction 

V)"; 

(iinievan.  i    \f^ 

(tanju  gomp.i  monastery, 

("lanju  la  pass.  li.  ,S6  ,  „     ,  ,, 

(Mill,  or  small  i  .ise  with  figure  of  Iluddha. 

i     247 
C.ir.i  1.1  p.xss,  ii.  ^f<b 
Gar  guiisa,  arrival  at.  ii.    319.    misleading 


(1.    ileparture 


of,     ii 


86 


reports  intentionally  spread  at.  anj; 
plans  formed  at,  222;  arrival  of  consign 
nunt  from  India,  i.^i.   leave  for   lankse. 

224  , 

Gartok,  men  and  baggage  sent  to,  from 
Tokchen,  ii.  107.  miiin  caravan  sent  to, 
from  KhaUb,  20^,  letters  ieteivi.d  at, 
211;,  visit  to  the  (iarpuns  of,  2 1  > ; 
friendly  letter  from  l.ien  Darin  at.  210. 
lonsultation  wiih  Gulam  Ka/iil  at,  217; 
plans  consiiiercd,  and  return  to  l^dak 
resolved   on.    21H.     leave   for    Gar  gunsa. 

2  If)  .      , 

Gaura,    letters   from    home   received   at,    11. 

41Q  .    .. 

Gave  ling,  massive  of  Kubl  gangri,  11.  loi, 

10?  . 

Gaw'  Daloi,  Chinese  Agent  at  Gyangtse.  1. 

V^K;    curres[)ondence  with,  iio,  39J 
Gaelics.  Goa,  i.  240  .  .      ,      /~u   u 

Gebuk-<hu.  lonlUience  of.  with  the  Cnak- 

tak  tsangpo.  ii.  337 
Gel.uk  la  pass.  ii.  u' 
G.l.uk-yung,  district  of,  11.  ,t.?0. 
Geese,    wil.l.    Hock    of,    i.    lb^.     habits   of, 

1(17,  i()S;    migrations  of,  ii.  321 ;     I  ibctan 

reverence  for,  ih2 
Crloni;,  order  of  priesthoo<l,  1.  311 
•■Gelugpa,"     n.onastic     sect     founded     by 

Tsong  Kapa,  i.  tss 
Gertse,  nom.i.ls  from,  i.   170,   11*4,    102;    11. 

2.SS'.    their  .li>lriist  of  each  other,  1.   ii;3; 

house  of  (hief  of,  ii.  3<)(> 
Gelsa  runK,  k'ol'l  i>lai  er  of,  ii.  27') 
(i'l\ui,  oriier  of  piiesthiXKl,  i.   ts' 
Ghe,    bivouac    at,    and    escort    changed,    i. 

424 

Goa  la  pass,  11    387 

Goa-lung  valley,  ii.  3R7 

Goang-shiHu-,  guides  obtained  at,  11.  3qj 

Gii,ing-I-.i,  Like,  i.  217 

(ioats,    taken     with    caravan    for    milk,    1. 

Gobrang,  ridge  of,  i.  206 

Gogra,  camp  at.  i    .'^i 

Golil.    traces    of    search    for.    i.    174,    188; 

placers,  ii.  27.^,  2H4 
Gomo  selung  cojntry,  i.  170 
Gomi)a  sarpa,     <  emelery     of     Shigatse.     1. 

3<"J 
Gossulgompa     monastery.     11.      122,      135; 

novices  in,    14^.    Huikang  of,    14",    Som- 

chung,    apartment    in,    140,      -iew    from 

roof,  14^ 
(.'in'rt,  or  district  chief,  i.  20.S 
Governor  ,    dual.    Tibetan    system    of,    ii. 

354  ,   .. 

Govo.  village  of,  11.  14 

Govo-tsangpo,  r;ver,  ii.  13 

Grilnwedel,  work  on  Huddhistic  mythology 
bv.  i.  320  t 

Gubuk  gompa  monasti-.^'.  ii.  Ro 

GulTaru.  oLl.  i.  S2.  72.  »*■.  »'."!•  "  *°\ 
appointed  caravan  leader  on  Miihamed 
l-.i's  d.  ath.  ^it.  returns  home  with  thir 
teen  memU-rs  of  caravan.  107;  safe 
arrival  at  (J.irtok,  141 

Guide.  Vagaries  ol  our.  1.  42S 


INDEX 


429 


Oulam    Ka'lir,  son   of   Niirr  Shah,   assist 
and-    r<  lidcrid    in    ShiKatsc    liy,    i.    377, 

^H 

Gulam  Razul,  son  of  Nazfr  Shah,  valuable 

services  of,  i.   50,    ii     217-211,    honours 

conferred  on,  i.  56.  ii.  221 
Gur.da  tanimo,  n-i:ncry  of,  i    433 
Uunsang  Ngurbu,  a  centenarian  homit,  ii. 

i« 
Gunt,  camp  at,  i   37 
GurkanK  |>u  valley,  ii.  Ko 
Giirla  Slandatta,   mountain  K''oup,  ii     104, 

106,    III,    iw;     var>ui>{   as[ieit>  1'     114 

IT.;   denudatiiin  tones,  157 
Gyaipo    KiiuKKhe,    "the    rrccioas    Kinj?." 

Sre  Dalai  I.ama 
GyanK  chu,  rivir,  ii.  S8 
GyanKt-se,    letters    despatchc<l    to,    1      360; 

messafje    from    Chinese    Anent    at,    jHS; 

Muhamed  Isa's  mission  to,  31)1,  31)6 
Gyebuk  la   pass,  important  trade  route,  ii. 

47  ;   view  from,  4.H 
Gyri^ong  valley,  larnp  in,  ii.  J71 
GyegonK  la  pa.ss,  ii.  372 
Gye  la  pass,  ii.  361 
Gyenor  tsanptio,  river,  ii.  39J 
Gyuma  chu,  river,  ii.  163 

Hajji   Ilaba,  name  assumed  by  author,  ii. 

37.5 

Hamduni;,  wandering  lai  as  quarters  in 
Taahi  lunpo,  i.  3i;7 

Hasting.-..  Warren,  embassies  to  thi-  Tasfu 
l^ma  from,  i.  331,  334 

Hawkes,  General,  i.  16 

Hemis,  temple  of,  near  Changa,  i.  63 

Hermit,  tell  of,  near  I-inga  gompa,  ii.  3; 
his  heroic  vow,  3;  his  prayers  for  the 
sick,  4;  ceremony  of  seclusion,  5;  (|Uota 
tion  from  Frbding,  6;  livinR  death  of, 
7,  10;  lavcs  of,  at  Nyang  to  ki  pu,  X; 
Waddell  on  practice  of  seclusion  for 
life,  9;  last  offices,  10;  a  centenarian, 
18 

Himalayas,  the,  view  of,  from  the  Ta  la,  i 
378;  from  the  A^dcn  la,  ii.  35;  from  the 
Serrhung  la,  6<) 

Hiraman,  an  old  friend,  i.  67,  73,  7<; 

HIabsen  Uorche  barva,  god  of  Iso  mavang, 
ii.  131 

Hlaie  Tsering.  Sre  Naktsang,  Governor 
of 

Hie  lungpa  valley,  ii.  193 

Hlindug  lini!,  i.  j.-fg 

Hodgson,  map  by,  ii.  401 

Home-sickness  in  caravan,  ii   63,  67 

"Horse  years,"  periods  in  Tilx-tan  cycle  of 
time,  ii.  i.)0 

Horses,  purchase  and  numbering  of,  i  40; 
qualities  of  different  breeds,  4q;  auxiliary 
caravan  of,  hired  from  Tankse,  ^0,  67; 
trouble  with,  on  leaving  l^h,  hi,  first 
lass  of,  71! ;  field  mice  holes  dant'emus  for, 
Q3,  06;  ii  307;  l^daki  consideration  for 
dying,  i.  qi;  stampede  of,  qq,  i  w,  i?**; 
ii.  30.  mortality  among,  i  loi-ioi,  13?, 
138,  149,  163,  181;  ii.  365;  diet  of 
"fibftan,  i.    lyo;     mules  compared   with, 


198;     death    of    my    dapple  grey,    ji8; 

splendid  (ondition  of  our    1  iljetan,   365; 

survivors  at  Shigatse,  397 ,    our  veterans, 

130,    339;     my    white    l^ilaki,    li.    339, 

3'>i,     373,     enormous    wastage    of,     340. 

Christmas    box    for   our,    it,!,     death   of 

brown  Shigatse,  364,    and  of  my  faithful 

'^hite  I^daki,  379 
Hu     I  sao    Hsing,    secretary    to    the    Tang 

Uarin,  ii    70 
House,    dixriptiotj    of    Tibetan    stone,    ii. 

14;     doniestic    utensils    and    possessions. 

House-boats  near  Gandarbal,  i.  33 
Hu<,  Abb^',  lx)ok  on   TiUt  by,  ii.  403 
Hymn,      liUlan,     translation    of,    i.     331; 
wonderful    chanting   of,    in    Tashi  lunpo, 

308 

1{(  nomads  distrust  of  the,  i.  334,  J37; 
singular  formations  of,  on  the  Ngangtse- 
tso,  337 

Idar,  the  Maharaja  of,  i.  15 

Illness  of  author,  1.  173 

Im.iges,  manufacture  of,  in  Tashi  lunpo, 
i.  368 

Immurement,  voluntary,  of  monks,  i.  363; 
li    3,  8.      '  '«  Hermit 

Imjjrcssions  ,11  stone,  i.  337,  406 

Indi.i,  the  Tashi  I-ama's  visit  to,  i.  331 

Indian  Government,  the,  symjiatny  of,  i. 
11) ;  instructions  of,  as  to  author's  pass- 
port, 35,  36 

Indu.s,  the,  previous  searih  for  rise  of,  i  3; 
crossed  beyond  Laraayuru,  43;  start  for 
the  source,  ii.  30S;  guide  and  sheep 
hired,  310,  discovery  of  source  of,  313, 
313;  mintal  picture  of  its  course,  J13, 
juslifiatile  feelings,  314 

Instruments,  scienlitic,  taken  on  expedition, 
i.  29 

Jackilaws,   flock  of,  at  the  Shemen  tso,   ii. 

Jangkint,',  district  of,  ii.  313 

J.i[ianisi-   Kn.bassy,   representations  on   my 

iKh.df  at  I'ekin  by,  i.  391 
Jera,  tamp  at,  44 
Jukti  la  pass,  ii.  ais 

KabKiIo,  camp  at,  i.  179 

Kdchrn.  order  of  priesthood,  i.  ,151 

t.ddakh,  long  narrow  piece  of  white  silk, 
i.  310 

Kadsiing  vallcv,  i.  80 

Kailis,  "the  holy  mountain,"  views  of,  ii. 
106,  III,  113,  181  ff.;  set  out  on  pil 
grimage  round,  189:  Nyanili  gum[i.i, 
190;  pilgrims  on  the  way,  193,  197: 
Diri  pu  monastery,  193^  test  stone  fur 
sinners,  195;  universal  Tiljetan  reverrm  .■ 
for,  11)6;  the  most  famous  mountain  1(1 
the  world,  i9.'s;  prostration  pilgrimage 
descril)ed.  199;  pilgrims'  performance  .it 
Dung  thapje,  300;  offerings  on  the  Uol 
mala,  301.     Isumbul  pu  monastery,  303 

Ka  la  pass,  view  of,  ii    396 

Kali  Oandak,  river,  ii.  78 


\ 


li 


430 


INDHX 


I     JO  I 


„(  til. 


upptT    Ch:ilil.ik 


i     (n1 
,  "■   '•■'■'■ 
,     vuw 


(74, 
of 


kciiiiii 


i)n\c    M^d-nt    to, 


KtluH,  or  hieh  o(Ti(  iul 

k.inili.i  ^utii'lo,  11     11  , 

K.imlu  TMninn,  t.  .1'  ,  n.  ..nipmrnt  bflon>; 

IPK  to,   li.    U'J.    "'T'-r  "I    «""''    'l-'l'""' 
,41;     no.turn.il    vi«.l    10    mv    t.nt 
W.Kal    1..IW    ol,    ;'.;.     ■•|.'>1"T 
roMiirs"    ;''7.     nioiniou^    t' nl    ol,    ,! 
pxxl  I'VC  to,  ,(?> 

Kcimdiunw  ihu,    n.mir   ot 
t  .ini;i«>,  ii    ;U 

Kini  l.i  |i.i^-,  1    J'\ 

htimpii  hinii,  or  alilxil, 

K;ini  lium;  >;an>;ri  raii^'i. 

Kariilo  ^.iHnl.im     valliy 
through,  11.  »02  ,     ,        .     , 

Kantfain,  ti-iit^  pitihcil  at.  1.   (') 

KaiiKluin;  l)UiKhn,  nv.r,  11.  4'J 

KanKluiiK  la    pa^s,    tin-o 

45 

KanK  rinpo'  he.     See  Kailas 
KanK,han,  t^an>;w,  r.v.r,  unplca.-,ar,t  cro..- 

Kanju°'ih','ikaMU,   lil.r:>ry  of  Tash.  lunpo,   .. 

5(j;    Icrturc^  in,   ;'i'i 
K.il>ihor,  lamyiat,  i.  J'>i 
Kaptai  kh.uu-,  tamp  -'L  "    ^.U 
karaka.-h  Uarv.i,  nv,  r,  11.  JW 
Karakorum     ran^r,    a|.lK-aran<f     of.     Iron. 

i:hannlunt!>onma,    ..    .v.,     laravan    <n 

v.-lolK.il  l>v  -lorm  from.  .)i 
Kart.u,  an  ohi  f..lU>*i-r  riuoKnuul  at,  .,  40 
Karlju  1 1  l>i-^.  ii-  '07 
^a:'u^r:"r^d.n.^.A    of.Ka.h,n.r„ 

anU  Pathaiw  from  i  arav.m  ,il.  1.  4  1 
Karma    I'unt.o,    (;aVirnor    ol    Uonulu,    n 

K.'irm'a'''-ramaini;,    of    Tann  vunn, 

ami  vak,  .vijipln'l  '>>■.  '•  •'" 
Karoni;  t>o,  l.iK''.  »•  .V^7 
Karpun,  an  oM  a.  quaiiitanii-,  1 
Karu  monastery,  i.  'ij 
K.ini,  I  amp  at.  i   404  . 

Ka.hnnr,    Sl.>har..,a  o     (S,r    Vratah 

rmption  of  .lulhor  l)v.  1    J'',    ttt. 


I J       trophies    anil    curios    in    house    at 
Suiila,     .^;     pholo^raph    of,    in     I  ,ishi 
lui,l«,     w.      b...piial.ty    to    au-l.or.    n. 
Aij.    IimI   k'ood  l.ye  to,   4a,t 
Kol.l..  ^all.■^,  lamp  in,  li.   11   J4.    Ix-RRinK 
I. "11   .It     .(4,     imix-mhnK   difljcultics   at. 


^;unll■^ 


.vi 


Sin>!i, 
j;mn 


ol 


by,  "in    honou 

birlli.i.iv,  J7 
Kashmiri-.  .li-TT.i>.-.il  of.  1 
Kavi  pan>;l)iiW.  i  .imp  at.  1 
Kavi  runt!  v.illty,  1.  3bi 


t)V.     I        iO,       ICH-    K'"" 

KmiKTor    of    Imlia'a 


4> 

.'iJ 


Kctx-i  hun^;u 


ramp    on    moor, 


.  4I'( 


V.lUtV,   I.    3UJ  , 

u  .o'untry.  ionli«uration  ot  tlic, 
,,,(,;   liu^t  >torra  in,  u,lt 
Kclunj;  tsani;ix>,  riv.-r,  i,  ^"4 
Ki-sar  t*am;iH>,  river.  1.  2i>i 
Kcva,  moum.iin  [x-ak,  1.  ii'> 
Khal.-li,    river,    ii.     iSi;     ram.] 

IM,    l.<<>,    20.t 

KholiMr,  atti-iiil  mis.sion  sirvit  r  in, 

Kithum.'  l.»  1"^'.  ''•  4.S    ,  ,„  .  ,11,. 

Kit-n    I.upl;,    Kmixror  of  tluna,   vi.,.tul   b\ 
third   la-hi  l.ama,  1.  ,U4 

Km.hinla    pa-,    li.    .UV.     .i;">"<l    ^ear.  h 
l).iriv  vi-it  our  i.imp  IH-Iow  the,  ^4} 

Kil.li.n      of       1  .i>hi  luniio,      Km-mH^      >'■ ' 
iMulilrons  in  the,  i.  I'n 

Kilihener,    l.oril,    as-.i.tan.e    pronu^ed    bv, 
i    ,s-     at   Viirruy's   Sute   dinner,   bimla. 


KokTi  san-po,   river 
ros-llH'.  ^o 


I, 


»i;    difficulties 


KoplHn.  I 
Kore  l.i  pa-- 
Kolikhk.  11. 
Kri.hna.  thi 
Kubi  «.in(;ri 
souri  e  of 
1/1.     ha»< 


,k  on  Lamaism  by,  I.  ,519  <•■ 
ii.  73,  «i;    view  from,  78 

'j.t7 
I'undit.  1.  373:   11.  404 
exiursion    lu   the,    11.    XH,    qq; 
the    Urahm.iimtra    loi  ated    in, 
moraines  of,   (i<y.     (jla.  lers  of. 


lane    moraines  01,   i)'t.     ni..-.w,  «., 
description    and    names    of    peak-s. 


11.    go;     measurement 
yi,    journey    up    the. 


asses, 
■?-.'  !<>'.  '»5 


131. 


I4> 

74, 


viMted      by     third 
mira<  uloui  tree  in, 


,  II. 


7*' 

brother     of     the 

j.->i,     309.      ^li' 
;    portrait  drawn 


too 
102 
Kubi  tsank'I«,    >■"'■'■ 
of    disc  harne    of, 

91 
K'.un  lun  mountain  .system, 

Kuijiis   or    iuw,;"'.    «il'' 

i';4.  177.   ''. 
Kule  la  pa>-.  li     3.>4 
Kuni  bum     monastery, 

'1  ashi   l..im.i,  i    3(4: 

Us 

Kui.jiihak  konK  valley, 
Kuiik'     Uushuk,      Uuki 

l.ishi     l..ima,     i.     Js5 

hou-r    in    Shina'.-e,    3^ 

of  his  wile,   i.sh 
Kun>;lun>;    v.iUey,    f.iKe   alarm    at,    1.    JI5, 

a  prolon^^eil  storm,  216 
Kuiii;  mui;a,  tamp  at,  ii.  .'^J 
Ku!i>:slur>.i  .ouniry.  dangers  of  discovery 

in,  ii.   ii's   3 '9 
Kunn  tsanulK),  river,  1.  J6j 
Kuru  chok,  double  lake  of,  11.  104 
Kvamchu,    valley   of,    ii.    3&.     junction    of 

river    with    the    .Xmchok  l^,    39)     "«■"» 

of.    (9  ... 

Kyaiia  il.iiii  pl-'i'i-  '■'"'?  on  the,  11.  jo 
Kvanmlani  Is.in>;i«),  river,  li.  34 
Kyerkye  vJle>,  li.  4.'' 

Labrant;,   the,   palace  of  the  Tashi   l^ma, 

•■Lac'Xiniiioniae,"    Dutrcuil   de    Rhins',   i. 

199  ,    .. 

I.achenkabab,  spriuR  of,  11.   1.^2  

l.a.he-to  island,  l.anKak  tso,  wild-geese 
(.^;^;s  on,  li.  175 

Lac  nu,  river,  n    i.M 

l.adaki  ijony,  my  white,  1.  S3,  170,  '97. 
ii.  a2(j.  2(1-,,  37.1.  i79     ,    .         .       ,  , 

Ijdakis  of  larav.m.  their  cheerfulness, 
i  -()  2?o-  statement.s  reeardmi!  the 
we,i'ther  '  7.r.  attention  to  dyin«  horses. 
<H-  [iravers  for  successful  journey,  139, 
leMiviti.-s  in  camp.  14O;  "  ''■>■  *^"* 
oi  cleanliness,  i.  150;  marNellou.  memory 
of  ui;  blo^!raphical  d. tails  nl.  151, 
I  .'iniaists  amc.nK.  receive  blesMUk;  ot  the 
■la-hi  l.am.i,  3sO;  ^onie-sic  kness  amonR 
li  hj.  ()7.  costume  of,  assumed  by  author 
aj  disguise,  i77 


i' 


J 


INDEX 


43' 


viiw   from  summit  of. 


I.aduiiK  •■»   I" 

I..un  1 1  P'l^-.  '    "^  ■  ,   ,      I,,  r.illt.irv    <asl<- 

.'.•,',,„;,   K.ni.Hh.-.'   m.-.n,nK  of  utW .   "• 

Laml.lLmKv;,ll.-y,  campin    i    2.., 
Lamlm,nUlu.svuw(n,m      .  ,, 'i 

I.anaW  la  pai-.  el..,o.l  U.  author,  ..   ,■) 
l.aml>lip,  .1  hvik!'-,  11-  .f0  |,,^.,.|^ 

^e';:^-i,t>;^;^^u..fv'i;r"?^-^ 

,(s6-     len.n.l    its    to    or.Kin    of    <hann.  . 

lK)t    of,    11.     «'','.    415  .  .  (       Ij 

LanK.  hen-kamba,  vall.y  aiul  sprint?  ul,  u. 

Lan°t!.hen  kamba  (EUphanl  nv.r)    TiU-tan 

narm-  for  the  Sutle),  11.  iHj 
Lannniar  village,  tamp  at   n.  u 
Lanffmar-tsanm*.    river    (upi>cT    Mv  thu^ 

Lanrta  <hen  massiv,  Kubi  panijri.  ii.  loj 

Lankar-Ronipa  monasttrv,  11.   i';i 

Lap,  sevi-ri-  1  limatr  ol,  11.  M" 

Ll'pcn -ran. 'view   of    largo  pan«n    from. 

La'rRt'p.  chief  of,  friction  with.  ii.  2S;    pr"" 

rnis  from,  34 
La  rock  pass,  i.  j."*© 
Lashman  Uas,  rumiit,  1.  41 
I^i  shvinn  country,  1.   174 
Lashunv;  tx),  lake,  1.  174 
Lavar  «an«n,  mountair  romon,  11.  S^i? 
Lavar  tsani;jK>,  river,  11.  S")*) 
Lilata  valley,  '74  :„    ;    .c      our 

Lrh,  arrival  at,  an.l  quarters  in  .  4  ,  o^r 
tinal  preparations  in,  4H,  l^.?'  .-^"V^^ij 
.aravan  <le-pat.  he.l  from,  V.  H.  JJi 
Nanr  Shah,  a  wealthy  merchant  ot,  ;.. 
assi.taiue  of  Gulam  ^a/ul,  hi.s  s«n^  ' . 
description  of  town.  ^7;  old  t"':"'  "  • 
c,.  graves  of  Kuroixan,  in,  ,8.  inci- 
dents of  our  send  oil  from,  f>o 
LehluHK  «ompa.    visit    to    monastery    ol,    1. 

aj?     stutied  vaks  in,  4.."  .. 

Umchun.  tso,  lake,  -amp  at  }^''."^'^^- 
UwiniimK  of  »  ih.rtydays  storm  at, 
J»3 


look  on  Tilx-t 


I  .iijo,  valley  of,  '    4J9 
l..~.lain,  Count  de,  1     i7». 

Letter"  t^.ome  .irnv.J  <)f,  '.■■/"••'"■ 
arrant!einent>  for  (..rwar.lniK. .7',  H.I.  <"■• 
^oj,  \iespatch    of,     from     I  ok.  hen,    11 

I  hT,  a    viMt   of  .ilVinaU   fron.,   it:';.    .W  = 
imd up    Sonan,    .u,d     1  a.hi    desjutched 

•liUtans  from,  a^  to  my  journey,  44 
1  h  IV  iL    ( .mil)  in,  ii    '>  t  1 

iTjn   Uarin,  Aml'an  of   Lhasa,  eorrespond- 

encc  with,  i.  3'X.  400.  il  4^.  I'f 
Litjhten.  Lake,  camp  and  ■;•••'«;"•'•  °  ! 
IKTso^nel  of  caravan  re.lu.ed  a  loi, 
M.ond  .amp  at,  107,  sou.id.nKs  an  1 
measurements  of,  ,07- mo,  storm  on 
",  mis.  table   ni^ht   at,    ny.    var,..l 

;,,',;,ones    .,f,    ""'''""'.^'-^^ryl^ 
us,    lis.   su.l.len   change   of   sctmry    on 

Liti'l^omlumonastery,  ii.   74;    ^^U  a, 

.itinkin^;  vessels  in,  75      .  .lU.x.sal 

lin^aKomiia  monastery,  1  4.^0,  ''*I«  ■■ '' 
orieceased  monks  prolK-rty,  4,?i .  ^'<.» 
^om  4U  4U;  rhvthmi.M  .hant.ng  m. 
;ri^^"   I'esuVcmplein,    4J4 .     an    optical 

illusion,  435  .    ;     ,,„ 

Linc;a  kok  vilLiue,  .amp  .it,  1.  4,to 
L>nMovill..K«.ro.k  drawings  near.  ..4" 

loK'r-f'iu'.a'foMower.ii.^: 
li;l:anK    Sfiunten,    secretary    to    Governor 

of  N.iktsani;,  1.  J49  ,       -t-  .,hi 

Lol.san«    Tscring,    se.ret.iry    to    the    I  a.h. 

I  ama,  visit  of,  in  Sh.gatse,  1.  JoH 
Lob,an«  •Iserinn,    Tibetan    nomad,   1. 

Lo'cjapu,    Nepalesc    frontier   chief,    ii. 

I^c^k"    by    Lyth  ot   Stockholm,   i.    .o»; 

iSinii^ic!^;  X.   a  lucrative   mono- 

Si-,^rSwrK^Ka.a. 

tsanKi«i,  ii    41 
LukkonK,  villag'-  of,  1.  7° 
Lumashar  country.  11.  30"  , 

LumlK;  gangri,    holy    mcumtain.    view    ot. 

from  the  Kilung  la,  11.  Or, 
Lumbur-ringmo  tso      lakc^     ''•   f  ^^^,^"„, 

pirions  of  noma.ls  at,   a.H, ,    purcn-isc 

L^miu"^  TseCg.  leader  of  Naktsang  party. 

Lilngdep-chu.  the,   tributary  of   the   In.ius, 

L:;;;!' ;.  ningn.  head  of  wild  sheep  secured 

L.M.g  I'and'e'..  gompa     monastery, 

h.rmit  of  the,  n.  3 
I.ungnak  valley,  i.  7**  .. 

Lungnak  buixliu.  stream,  u.  3>3 


i')i. 


II. 


4»4; 


u 


iU    '' 


432 


INDEX 


arrinRrmnit 


,h  nod  u(    T^u  niavann, 


I.unnnnK  fwiH%  ii    40 
I.uiik;  yum:,  nvrr,  ii    ')a 
I.unk.ir,    i.im|.   at.    1     Tl 
i.ir.iv.in  nil  liMvinR,  ;^ 
I.ur.k.ir  U  im^*.  u     V>i 
I.uni-  K-'nH".   fx-ak.  o(.    virjinR   vk«s    i. 

I.ym^,' suicM'.tuI,    liUt.m    a.lmiral...n    <.f, 

ii    350 
Maliir  unR^am  angmo,       >amp       at,        11 

M^rhi    lu,  Chin.M-  i.iTiii.il   from    Lha^,.., 

i    400,  4*^^  ,  , 

Ma.hunK    vilLiK.-.    .mmIxjIi.     .U-M«nt    at,    .- 

M  Swincv,  C'olonil,  1    ift  ,..        ,  „ 

Ma  Dal..'..  Chiiu-s.-  ...n.nim,  .-r  in  Shik-'al-^ 

i,   „A    ,1S.    ..I.l.ral,..,,  of  'h.nr-..    N.» 

Y.ar,   .,45'.    or.l.r,  in.'  to  l.avc  Shi^at..-, 

V)' 
Mailo  (.tmo,  th 

ii.  I  \a 
Ma  liiiiK,  river,  i    a77 
Mainrr.  vill.i«<-  of,  i     (6 

ManasarovMr,  -ihr  holy  1  ikn,  M.  .or, 
Hinilu  v.-ncralion  for,  lu.  suri.a-.Miik 
U-auty  of  thi-  lak.-  an.l  Us  ,.irrouTi.liiit--. 
Ill  rilj.-lan  ,u|>cT.mi..i.s,'-l.>.  Mi,  ii>. 
Jormrr  I.  vl-,  MC  o'.ir  l.:-t  sail  ..n,  114; 
soun.lin^s  ami  i,nil«-ralurr,  of,  "S  M  , 
l^htninK  HT,-..,  on,  ...;  --1'-^ 
natural  phrnomn. .,  n'.,  ",.  '<>"^- 
voyagr  on,  >3i;  pilnnnis  al,  iit.  ■.-■ 
the  lamas  of  (;os.uUomi.a  a-t.,n,sh,  .1, 
,,,;  ouil.is  of,  .J2.  -'orm  on,  iiv. 
peculiar  wavo  umlulalions,  1^7,  n>ap  01 
!:h„r.l,n,-  .Irawn.  wS.  on.Mn  of  lak. 
d.-t.-rmin,-.l.      .;H,        I  u>;u  i;om,.a      a  .M 

age  toth.-,  !.,,(;  o-rniu  -torn.  ..n.  .,,.- 
,40  svu.our  from  {...--uU..mp..,  .4., 
,4,;    monks'  .ontra.li.'.iry  slal-'m.'nts  as 

to.  .47;   .Is  M".ii<y.  '^''   ■^1'""^''  ';• 

,rh  ,;S;  un.l.'rfr,.un'l  ...nn.'.l.on  with 
La..Kakt-n,  ..;?,  ">-■  ,•'"",'"'•  "'•  '^^^ 
C-hiu%omi.a,  1^.,:  our  last  .lays  on,  .r«5, 
I'umliV,n.pa  a:'..l  l.an^iU.  nan  m..na- 
st,ries,  ."^  ■"'.  ^""ount  o  surfa.o 
„at.'r  tlowini!  ,Mt...  .'.<:  '•''"'"'■'l;';  .;,:'" 
I-annak  t-o  an.l,  i'>\  1^.  ■">"•  <-hcrK.p- 
Kompa,  ,'.s.  fr...'in«  "'•  "^° ■  J""""^^ 
alone  nonhcrn  shor.-,  4.s  .        .u 

A/a«.  r.-.K«,.<,  or  slonc  c.-ls  lovcrcd  with 
slab's,  i    fii 

Mankonh  !a  pass,  i    <«3  u-     v.     .,-„ 

Manuel.  ,  .x>k  ...  a'.thor.  ..  ;...  h.s  broken 
KnKlish,  ■>-.  -'»t  home  from  Lake 
LlBhti'll,   :CJ.   ."'' 

Maps  -.ferr.-.l  .0     of  Na.n  Sine.  ...   2,     30. 

5^     Qo     40^.     WebUr.    ,"0.     D.\nv.lle. 

,8,       i^fi,      W7.     401;       HcKlRson       40.; 

Dufour.   4<»';    Saun.Urs,  40^;    Atkinson, 

403;    kri-.hna,  404 
Mar.  h,  l.nL'ih  of  a  .lay's,  i-  73 
Mar.  hit  t>.i,  l.ik. .  1    2^^ 


by  Nain  Sing, 
book  by,  men 
and    namc.l 


laravan 


tent  villages 


I4» 


M.irium  rhu,  river,  ii    10 
Manum  U    pa^s,    crowid 

I.     H,, 

Markhani.    Sir    Clements, 

Ik I,  II    40> 

Markhani,     Lak.',    divovered 

l,y  Captain  KawluiK,  i.  14** 
Marku  Iso.  lake,  1    JJ4 
Marn\ak  la  p.iss,  11    104 
.Marsi'mik  la  pass,  slow  progress  ol 

over,  1    :'..    ills.it-reealile  .lis.  ent  ol,  77 
M.irl^an^  i-.iin!;'".  river,  11.  .;o 
.\l.itx,  iJr    K.irl,  I    U 

.\1  ir\    Kev    Mr  ,  missionary  at  I'oo.  n    417 
Mas,u.i.       M.i.lame,      melting      with,       at 

1  arali.la,  ii    4I.>  ,.         ■ 

Matayun,   lamp  at.   1.    y,:    disturlan.e   in 

i.iravaii  at,   v>         .,     ,     ,  t     u: 

Maus..leums  of  five   1  ashi  Lamas  in    Fashi- 

Uiiii«>.  uo    tt?* 

MedKine  .hesi,     a     ix,|iular,     1.     JQ.      I7'. 
presente.l  to  the   I'ashi  l.ama,  ji'J 

Memo  c  hutsi-n,  warm  spring  of,  11    J7  )  } 

Memory,  1  laniples  of  marveUoUi.  1.  151 

Men  ehii,  nvi-r,  li.  '.S 

M.n  <hu  vallev.  (ampin,  11.  <X) 

Men. lii  ants,    lii^-tan,  i.  J17 

^^enlll)n^!  Komju     monastery, 
of,  li.  3^ 

Mi-iui,  a  templinu,  i.  i'<4 

M,  ike  saiii;,  view  from.  11.  3SH 

M.teoroloni.al  observations    1. 

MiiUo  I-Mrl  of.  Viceroy  o(  India,  efforts 
on  Ik  half  ol  author,  i.  •>:  State  d.nner 
iiul  livee  bv,  13;  rieeives  author  as  his 
Ku.st  .;,  his  iiopularity  in  In.l.a,  and 
State'  sirvi.e,  13;  family  life  of,  14; 
author's  farewell  to.  an.l  family,  iq; 
hospitality  of,  ii.  430,  si>ee.h  to  my 
f.ill.iwer-.  431  ,    K'X"^  ''y '">  ■'^' 

Minto.  Countess  of,  i.  13.  '*<  ">•  "• 
431 

Mirage,    perplexing    effects    of,    1.    94;     "■ 

.\IiUaK  l-efHer,  Professor.  Stoikholm  Uni- 
versity, .i    406 

MorIk)  (limrop    lountry,    i- 
news   in,    300 

Mohanlal,  men  hant  of  I.eh. 

N.ohaiil.il,  Hindu  do.  tor,  11    .ii'' 

Mollah  Shah,  a  former  follower,  met  with, 

Monks  in  Tashi  luni«,  reliRious  ceremonies 
bv     i     uH    ff  .     k'r.ides    and    numU-r   ol. 

Vs'i,    !W.    ''■•>''^'  !'''■    "f.    ''^^'    '^"'    *^"'''" 
r.insumption    of    t.  a    amoiiir,     is'),     i><'\ 
voluntary    immurement    of    urtain,     !')!; 
sfirt  rule  enf.irK.I,   !(.4  ;    manufaeture  ol 
iirat-es  bv,  ?fi7 .   funeral  customs,  ^Og 
Moi'.'am  Konema,  ii.  ,.3, 
Mon'oon  rains,  importance  of,  11    6« 
Mont^omerie,  Colonel  T.  G  ,11  ^"-O,  4.o,t 
Mora.ian     missionaries    in     I.eh.     kin.lncss 
of,    i     «4.     a.lmirable    work    amon^    the 
I.adikis,  !;4,  .;<;  ,  ^  ,       ,     ,. 

Morl.'\,  I.onI,  Secretary  of  State  for  India, 
i  8.' '.),  1 1 ;  e.xplains  refusal  of  permission 
to  en'.cr  liUt,  10 


1Q9;     gloomy 


';3 


k    H 


M 


INDEX 


433 


MugliK  mustrr  of  ramp  and  in.'prftion  o( 

Muh.iMiMl  N.i.  my  I  ar.iv.in  IrwJrr,  i  ^o, 
iX[xrirn(  <■  .iiul  i|U.iIiIm  ,ili(in»,  4'i.  47, 
his  iirriKir.ilcons  liir  ii|ul[mu  lit  of  i.ir.iv.iii, 
4H;  watilidil  i.irr  rxir(i-.i'il  tiy,  76.  his 
cpinldii  ol  Ihc  k.ijimt  1  ~( iirt,  7(t,  wiv 
marks  rrritril  tn,  >  t,  i-(i),  srts  oul  t.r 
GyAiiKt-r,  ,(1)1,  ('(''.  .irt.iiiKfs  festivities 
in  ita-ang  <am|p.  ii  47.  loaves  wiih 
main  raravan  fur  Saka,  47,  illnrM  aij'l 
siiflirin^'s  of,  <;j,  ^1.  his  death,  ;i. 
funeral  nf,  ^t>;  a(i|irr<  lalioiis  <'f.  ^7.  ^v 
inMnptioii  on  tDnilisluiir,  <;.H;  rmifiru 
a()[jointi(l  hi»  sill  elisor,  vj;  Muham 
mi'dans  huld  memnnal  fea-t,  f>o;  ili- 
pressing  rllii  ts  of  hi-  di  ath.  >>i 

Muhamid  Rehim,  minhant  from  Khoi.in, 
li.  iU 

MulcihunRsimo  ma'.-ive,  Kuril  KanRri,  11 
100.   lOJ 

Mukden,  Chn^imas  moH  spent  in,  ii    iaA 

.Mules,  lomparisoii  of  INxhk  h  anil  IiUtin, 
i.  J'<,  t'i>^,  heavy  li>sses  of,  141),  I'u, 
ift|,  IQ7;  our  new  animaK  at  Oar  Kunsa, 
ii.  jjo;  lonir  elTeits  of  whi-ky  on,  j)m, 
3O4;   death  of  our  last  veteran,  161 

Mumtant;,  Nepal,  laravan  from,  ii.  7^ 

Nfuiij.iin  valli  y,  li    ji  j 

Muii  ISO,  twin  lakes,  [josilion  of,  ii.  ivj 

My  1  hii  tsanj;|«i.  river,  i  jf"),  J71;  com 
pliiated  s\s|im  of,  J7h;  eonfluence  of 
bok  rhu  with,  m:  journey  up  v.illey 
of,  4J?  tT  ;  sienery  of,  41X.  an  eiientric 
Ruide,  43H;  eommeriial  im[)ortan(e  of 
valley  route,  43Q 

iNadsum,  ramp  at.  i.  317 

Na«ma  tsanajio  (Chum.il,  river,  ii.  J.H 

Namir.  the  (Jova  of,  ii.  S4 

NaRrong  villi  y,  monk  doetor's  tent  in,  li 
j()6.   animal-  and  -tores  pun  ha-id  in,  jij7 

Nain  .SinK,  hi-  disiovery  of  treat  l.ikis  of 
central  lilK't.  i.  ?;  nonieni  lattire  of 
BoiJt.sanR  tsani'[»  ilistriit,  30h,  outline 
of  the  Nuant't-e  t-o,  Jio;  maps  of,  re 
ferred  to,  ji;o,  2;S;  ii.  31,  3').  41.  ,\o:, 
V*so.  401;   on  -oune  of  firahmaputra.  ,^'> 

Nakt«  RonRronc  ^rancri,  mountain,   ^7'i 

Naklx)  konccio  la  pa—,  ii.   176 

N.ikrhu,  pilgrims  from,  i.  300;  punhase- 
frotn,  303 

Nakt-anp,  flovernoi  of,  refusrs  to  allow 
earav.in  to  proceed,  i.  3(6,  34.1.  '47- 
previous  troulilc  with,  7\X;  moetini:- 
with,  343,  3  17.  his  treatment  hy  the 
Devashunp,  341,  3-1,  i7h;  my  projio-al- 
to,  344:  iine.xiHited  (h.inL'e  of  front  liv, 
3io;  celi[>se  of  sun  exjilained  to,  3';4; 
lordial  leave  taking,  3-7 

Nakt-ani;,  hor-emen  from,  our  nrnpre-s 
stopped  Ijv,  ii.  36;  palaver  am!  aeree- 
ment  with.  37;  ro-tumes  and  equipment 
of.  u 

Naniai  h.me  district,  camp  in,  i.  361 

N.mi  irdinj;  valley,  camp  in,  ii.  107 

N.ini.i  -hu,  camp  at,  ii.  Xo 

Nanuhin    valley,    joint    camp    in    the,    ii. 

VOL.    II 


(63 ;  »torf»  laid  in  at,  jfta;  rfnfwH 
diMUssion  of  m>  return  routr  at  mffting 
in.  \f>4 

.Namuyal  Ihakang  trmplf,  Tashi  lunpo,  »er- 
viir  in,  i.  \tii 

N.iniU,  village  of,  ii.  ^% 

Namla  Roni|si  mon.istrry,  li.  Hj 

.Nanireldi,  i.illry  ami  stream,  ii'.  1^6 

.S'aiiRs.inR  ta  piss,  li    03 

N.ionR  ruriR  \.illev,  t    3ft,t 

.V.ionR  t*anKix),  river,  i.  3ftJ 

N.ivaia,  mountain,  i.  41S 

Na/er  Shah,  Hajji,  a  wealthy  patriarch  of 
I.eh,  i  <;s;  luirative  mono|»ly  in  family 
of,  lit),  srrviies  rendered  to  author  hy 
his  sons,  nft,  .177.  .l"**:  "•  "7  »"; 
eommeriial  interests  in  ShiRatJC,  i.  J1I5 

Nehuk,  vill.iffe  of,  ii.  80 

Nika  di-iriii.  lamp  in,  i.  314;  sicknfsa 
in  f ar.ivan  .it.  3  14 

.Nema  Ink,  ramp  at,  ii.  110 

.N>|al,  the  Consul  of,  at  Tashi  lunpo,  i. 
104;  visit  from,  ?74.  a  P»'ep  into,  ii. 
7Q.  temptation  to  extend  journey  south- 
wards, Ki 

NerunK  tsanRpo,  river,  ii.  84 

Neve,  I)r    Arthur,  SrinaRar,  i    3? 

Neve,  I)r   Krnest.  i.  J.i 

.New     Year,     Chinrsf,     celebration     of,     i. 

14< 

.New  \ear  Festival,  Ta.shi  lunpo;  its 
[popularity,  i.  101;  our  drf«  lor,  and 
journey  to,  \ox:  a  piituresquc  a.s.sfm- 
lilaRe,  (04.  drevsfs  at,  .^ov.  reasons 
for  increa.sc  of  interest  in,  jo6;  an  en- 
thralling hymn  chant,  .loH,  arrival  of 
the  Ta-hi  l-ama  and  his  court,  (og; 
religious  dances  and  masques,  ^ii; 
efleit  on  the  sjiectators,  im;  a  symtiolic 
fire,  (14;  combined  dam  r  of  lama% 
(H;  general  purimse  and  significance 
of  the  ceremonies,   ^i<i 

Ngangga,  or  Ganga,  channel  lietwern 
Man.i-arowar  ami  the  l,anRak  tso,  ii. 
I. So,  isf) 

NgangLiring  tso,   lake,   irregular  outline  of, 

"■  10'* 

.Ngangtsr  tso,  lake,  rest  at,  i.  >J,i;  thick- 
ness of  ice  of,  334;  hermit's  cave  at, 
33 ^;  soundings  on,  336  fl  ;  sledge  con- 
structed, 33(1;  singular  ice  effects,  337- 
30.  New  Year's  Day  ic)07  on,  3io; 
N'ain  Sing's  outline  of,  310;  crustateic 
in,  311 ;  trying  weather  on,  3  13,  letter 
with  baci  news  from  Roliert,  Jift.  meet- 
ings with  Governor  of  NaktsanR  at,  343, 
347;  arrival  of  mail  tiag,  3,S4;  reasons 
for  rememlierinR  the,  357 

Ngartang,  bivouac  in,  i.  377 

Ngavang,  joint  Governor  of  Saka  dzong, 
ii.  (i;^,  (68 

Ngomo-dingding,  Rlacicrs  of,  ii    03,  o'',   '<" 

Ngiirbu  Tondup,  our  mail  carrier  to 
Gyangtse,  i.  j6o,  374;  brings  u.s  rock! 
news,  1H3 

Neurkung  la  pass,  ii    76 

Nien  rhen  tang  la  range,  Reographii  al  im- 
portance  of,    i.    367,    373;     ii.    I'),    3io; 

it 


\ 


:.! 


INDKX 


I  I 


■'.-*5»': 


li 


ft 


r. 


\  Pi 


I' 


434 

q„r.tion»   .i«   to  it<   .(irfrlion   :inH   r»trnt, 

317.    W4 
Nim.i  liiiiK  !■>  I«".  "     '" 
NIm.i  Ii"!'!!  villrv,  II     1  J') 
N,m,.   I..-IM.  .I...I..;  ...ort.  »     1'^ 
N„  ^t.Ul■^  L.iii'l.  '    ■'•<  ...        ,^,, 

from    Naktsatm.    "'■'•     '"""    ^"''""'    " 

I'JO 

Nuhri,  i    '>4 

N.,n,,it   I'.i^hi  liinp.1,  i    ^^^.  1^'" 

Niirl.i  ^l.iliiin  hciii-i-,  i    1 1       .  .     ,.  , 

in,  r.MM- ../  lHlk;ri.M.  1..,   .  yi  .    h..lK  oi,  i.,i 
Nv.iin!  'h.i,  nvii,  I    J'li 
Nv..ni!lok.  im.hrrMnl.  <av. -.il.M.H 

N\.inv.i,  vill.in"'  in  S,  i'''.."    ""^ 

Nviiku.  fn.n.ll.n.s-  .,1   (..iv,,  ,.(.  ii    Co,  (>,  . 

■.irn>.il  .in'l  -.inil'  ■",  ''7 
()....«  Cm-.  «m  of  <-."ViTn.,r  of  SA,  .l.-on.- 

„v:^il,:;::r'Nr;i':  w  ■■.  ^n-t.  ••■-■;'• 

.\B.nt    .It    lly.ini;!-'',    i-    .'14.     ;"''■     """ 
j.rrt.T  I.)  Ill-'    r-'-l"   '•■""■'  '"   ''"''•'■    '■-■ 
,Tl...mo     suri.ri-c-      fn.m.      (77.       ""'' 

O^'.iwV,"  I'nVssnr.   Kioto  VmvtrMty,  ti.in, 
l.ition  t)V,  ii    i^t 

•■■.,n    mam    lu.lmc    hum.       lit-t.M     ...ml 
(ormul...   1.   4..     i>     ".   4V     \\..'M.1I>   ■ 
m.irks   „n,    304;     u'-iv.  r-ity   "f.    •'o  I    "■'•■ 
GupiK^n  .11.1  t;ru.i«..l.l\  lr..i..,Ut.oi.  .... 


OniUi,  nnm.iiU  fr.im,  ii    J0^ 
;>mhfl.  shiulj  u.s.-.l  f.T  fu^l.  11    »';'> 

P,n.,I,,.  mount.iin  r,.ne.'.  .     J'.-.    -.nl.,i„.n  of 
imr«>rt..iHK.-<..;r..l.hi..ap-.M."'.  •"■:.  ^.» 
r.iih.n  v.ill.-v,  11     I".   ■-"•  1'  " 
I'.l.  hunit  v.ill.  V,  li     1  w,   "'•■   <'  ', 
I'allm..  S..ml,h.,v,.,  t.iun.l  -  „1   I...m,ii.m,  1 

in  ,    li.  ") 
rama.  ^vtus  of  ;ut  i;ht,  ii.   1  _( 

I'.Am.i  v.ill.v,  li    7') 

IS^' .i:;,:%c.  •■,h.  (;r.n  pmi...is 

Tcirhcr."      '<<■<■   1  .i-'ii  '•>"'■'  T,         „     i- 

,4J;     .-Kt-    1-   our    >■'  I'll.     \''''.     .lout't'i" 
ih.ir.i.  t.r  111,   i7J.  .C      U'* 

i:::^So;::j;riAs.  v^  prev,„u, .... 

to,  70 
P.>n.;Mt.ik,  ..imp  .it,  11    4.; 
P.inkur  (..untry,  11.  i.<o 
Park.,,  laK>;..j;''  -''"t  t...  h    "•''.  <  »'"?""•  '7" 
Park.i   Tas.im,  thf  .Its  li>.        17'' 
Partrid,;.  .  sh.K.tii.L:  of.  ciu-.-,  .uspi.ion,  11. 

P.irv.i  v.ilUv.  .ami.  .il«)v.-  tlv.  11.  .vi 
P..    .  ,..ik.     vilUik^c    of,     ii.     05;      ui.rdiabU 
liala  in,  66 


p,«.r,   of    thr    Tnn<  Him.il.ir»,    prinrit«l, 

„     40.t.      unkn.mii.    .ro^,.•.l     l.y    aulh.ir, 
40,      .ivrr.inr  hrinht  of.   410 
P.,.i.,rt    Chinrsr,  uUim.itr  valur  of,  1    t'i'i. 
,,Lli,r,«    o(,    w^,     trrm,    of    my    nrw, 

P,>!hat'i.,"o/rs'ort.  i  ^1;  'lilVi.  ulli'■^  with. 
P.    .|i.rni>s<-il  from  c.iravan,  41 

P.ili  i"i,  .li^lriit  of,  I    J07 

Patl.-r...!.,  Cai.l.i.'i,  Joml  (  ommi«ipn.  r  of 
I..„l..k.  kl...!n-^  o(.  ,  .'..  47;  a.l.lr",.-, 
c.irav.iii  l«for'-  M.ulmk',  w  

Pi.ir,,  I -..loll.!,   K.M.I.iit  at  Srinatjar,  htt.  r 

P.,|,uu'l-..ni,'i»..  vill.-v  of  tti.,  11     W.  Vt" 

f'linc    or   l..iiro|«.in.  1     100 

P.mlM     iM-nnt!,  of    Saka.  ii     60,   M,   n\ 

\'M\.iU.     N<I>.il.--     mir.liants'     -.  rai     in 

Shi|Mt-i-,  i.    174  .       .       , 

P.rmanakU.  lan«  v.ill.  v,  (amp  in,  1.   i ,; 
P.lir,  K.v    .Mr,  l.rh,  1     ^'.   'X 

P,krim.inr    of    i.ru,tr.it,on,    ,l,-s<  nption    of, 

Pilltiim',  mr.tiiu-  with  ami  pur.  h.isrs  I-. mi, 
i  joo,  JO.;,  on  th.'  l^ahi..|K..  ''U.  m 
Ta.hi  luni-i,  Ut.  ^  =  '1.  -l-votioiul  .x 
,r.  iM^  i;-;  niy  ixii.ti.ni<->  of  .Mi-. .  .1, 
ii  f,.,;  Ilin.lii,  .It  .M.in.i^arowar,  1  U. 
i;n  im  i.iurn.  V  roun.l  K.nlas,  i.;J.  i';7; 
m.-n't.il  >k.t.  ti  of  K'-iMt  r..utt.s  of,  2o\ 
Pin/.ilin^'.  t.ri.lp-  at,  •■  4i''  . 

P„l,r.iMi;  viU.ii;.-.  tti<-itiuK  with  I-.nKli>tj 
.:.,rt.:m.n  at,  i.  71-.  r>-<  '"^  '"^"  ■'"'' 
1„  ,,1  at  -3.  arr.ini;cmiiil.'<  ma.lc  T.ir 
litl.rs  73;  our  la-t  [..mt  of  lont.i.t 
»ul)  .mtcr  worl.l,  72,  74 
Polni.al  ...m|.li.  ,ti..n~  I  il«-tan  O.ncrn- 
m.nt  olTi.i.il-  M-il  in  SliivMl-c,  1.  ,17';; 
or.l.rs  from  lil-t.in  an.l  I  hiii.-.-  (.'.y  rn- 
m.-in.s  ^^\y>^^■  .vIm..' fn.m  »,.iw  D  .  "i. 
vjj-  l.tt.r,  l.i  (  liiiiisc  an.l  Ii  -tan 
iSi.it'.-  oil..  i.ils  vn;  Cliinrw  supr.Y'1'.v. 
V)5;     UttiT     from     Chang     \m      land, 

PonKihrn  la  p.i<s,  1.  260 

PiH.    M.iravi.in   misMoiiarics    ho-pitality   at, 

ii'4,-       l-.ikWar'*  nturn  to,  41.'*  . 

PcK.n.h,      muU,      from,      r.imi.ar.-.i      with 

•nutan,  i    JS,    troul.lf  with   mm  from, 

PorunR    vall.y,    sulphurou.s    -.pring*    in,    i. 

jO.) 

P.iru  t-o,  l.ik.-,  vKW  ol.  .1    y)i 
P.itu  la  pa.--,  i    42 
Pu-chu,  v.illi-y  of.  11    40 

Pult-o,    lak.',    .amp    at.    1.     i.?i;       "I'-'l-n 
sl.irms    at,     m.     i,?0;        soun.linns    a.i.l 
m.a.,urrni--nlN     i.U    MV^      <ru-t.i....'    m, 
,  ,,.     i.u   'i  ii.iu<   lamp  lire.    I  U 
Pun.li!  ilouliU-  l«ak-s  of,  11     112.   w'..  i7i 
Piiii.li  Konipa  moii.i.-ti-ry,  11     i'>2 
Pi;.ir  ihii.  riv.r.  li.  »S  ,    , 

Pi.i.i.ili,  l.i'  ul.  .1  lilt  Oovi-rnor  of  thi ,  1     iJ 
Pu.'.i  uic,    liUl.iii  iioniail,  i    i~*.;,  i'*' 
puiKhuiin  i-int;i«>.  "V.t    i.  J(.4    .. 
Puranj!,  cpi.U  mil  of  smallpox  at,  11.  9* 


INDKX 


435 


fuUin,  V.irkiml  fur  roil,  i  ;• 
l'ii-.um  vill.i^'r.  Lirni)  il.  I  in 
Trayrr  (unii  il  i,    lii»t.iri,  i     ,\o\,    IW,   4"«. 

}',.,^.,  m,ll-,    m     I.i.hi  l'.!!U«>.    '  •''■'■     '" 

r.i-hi  HI  inl«  ,  41  I.    iiU'iuity  i>l.  11     'o<. 
I'rir-lhi-«l,  u..lir,  ..f,  1.    tvi  ,   , 

^^u■^th.Kl-l,  il.iiinn.ilniii  of  ill'-,  m    lil«t,   1 

'"* 
I'r<islrali..:i    |uli;rinuKr,    ilcjiriplioii    "I,    n 

it,q 

Quaill,     ('■lUiil,     (Ifrm.in     ('iin,ul  (Jiiur.il, 

<|]nnir  ^;lvcn  ttt  biiuU  by,  i    lO 
Qu.  tu,  i.  5 

RaUan^;,  l.i'  graphical  .lil.iiU  nf.  i    isi 
Racis,  mixi  .re  of,  in  (  ir.i\aii,  1     (i 
kaclult  valley,  ii    i?  1 
Kak'.i  la^am,  lanip  al,  11    4>  i  f""'"'  "'  «  '* 

linu'-,   rx|»'clili.m    liiuih.il    at,    41,     niis- 

•.i-nt-rrt  •!•  .[kill  hnl  t'l  SIiiimi^<-  frniii,  n. 

lamp  111.    al,  41;     lil"la"  Ouvtrnm.  nl  < 

in^lr^lc  lidiis    nKardinn    aulhur,    44.     viMt 

thi'  (Iciva  of,  'i| 
ka^;  I  I^am.•|"l,  river.     Sif  Uok  .  hu 
Kak'"!'  valley,  i.  i^ri 
Kairi>,  irTi|iurlaiue  of  moriMKiri,  Ii.  6H,    our 

tirst,  ^irHl•  le.iMnj;  l.ailak,  7» 
Rajpjts  of  e,.on,  i.    jH;     Muham.-l    I-i'-i 

opinion  of.   7S,    10  i,    »int  hunif  at  Lake 

Iifcthtt-n,  lOJ,   106 
kakas  lal.     >><•  l.ini?ak  Ho 
Kaniliirpiir,  nU.iK'e  ol,  i.  (u 
Rart-e  plain,  .irrival  of  mi.i^ing  followe^^  .it 

I  anip  in  ihr,  11.  ^')<t 
Rav:ik  la  (ki--^,  ii     1 


Ravens,  (H-rtin.iuly 
Rawalpindi,  i.  11 
RawlinK,    Capl.iin 
tovtTS    Captain 
Vi^hil  kul,     HI) 


of,  i.  14.?,  U'<,  i;5,  i''l 


r 

0, 

i.    If), 

? 

I ; 

I) 

■.1>V    3 

>t..r 

■s 

al 

11a  pi 

out 

"l( 

.Il 

<ii. 
till- 
kul 

district     1)0,    M7;     Lake    Markh.iin   di, 
covemi  and  named   l.y,    14.S,    exiHilition 
to  (Jartok  under,  ii    'lo 
Relum    Ali,    le.Mins    in    ruwinn   |o,    1,     loS; 
terror   in    •.torm   on    Lake    l.i|.diten,    iii; 
attacked     l.y    wiM     3ak,     i;<),      >acrilue 
olTercd  up  by,  i()4 
Relii;ioiis,  various,  in  laravan,  i.  )i,  5J 
Ril,l..i(h,  Mr.  and  Mr.,  l.eh,  i.  55 
Rii  henih'i,  river,  li     i  w 
Rii  hiinn  I  lui,  river,  ii     ii<) 
Ritk.h.iw-,    reaMin    for    abundance    of,    in 

Siml.i,  if 
Rii;i  hlonia,      iova   of,    interesting    informa- 

timi  liv  the,  ii.   vi\ 
Rik  A/x,  order  of  prie>th<xxl,  i.  ,?ii 
Rin.ikrhutsen,  lake,  rami)  at,  i.   pjS 
Hi'ndinii,  order  of  prie-tniH«l,  i.    )|;i 
RiMfhuni;  lountrv,  lanip  in  the,  ii.  J76 
RoIjIxts  in   the  Chaktak  tsaiiiriw  ruunlry, 

li.  135;  TilH-tan  punishmi  lit  of,  s\'' 
Rolic'rt,"  my  faithful  servant  and  metror- 
ologual  assistant,  i.  n).  !'(.  I4J,  >=o; 
mediral  skill  of.  I7';  honie  siikness  o(. 
ii.  6j;  Uid  news  received  by,  Jig;  my 
parting    with,    u^ 


hermit's    irll 


R.Mk  •  illev,  ii    '■7 

koik  ilrawiniTs  in   l>.k  1  hu  valley.  1     4»J 

K..n^>rak  <hu.  river,   u     104 

kuiii.,  imouraKi'iK  'I'"'  "'  '' *•■"■  "'•  '• 

I 'Mi 

kukyok  ls.inKI>">    "^'r.    "'"'    vail.  >,    11     Ik,, 

114 
Kiin«  v.dlry,  l.ivoui.    if..  I    *',! 
kuru;  .  hu,  riv.  t.  i    1^0 
kuiii;Mi.i.  villii^.   of.  1     i^'-.    10l 
kyiler  an.l  Wmxl,  maps  In,  referrnl  lo,  11. 

«5,  .JO,  405 

Sa.  hu  tsan>!l»i,  river,  ii     .117.    lanip  al  the, 

I'll 
Si.lunn,  ramp  al,  1    40  I 
Saka,   [«rmi.si.in   for  excursion   Kranteil   liy 
(;.iverii..r     of,     li.     47-     arrival     at,     M, 
.lilluullie.    With    ..lli.ial,    of,    00.     l.m« 

inn   10   (ill    awav    from,    'u.     villane   lif.-, 
bi;    search  party    fr.iiii,    visit   our    camp. 

Its;    my  return  route  discussed  with  the 

(iovernc'ir  of,    is.;    \y>,  J'M 
Sakli,  vilja^e  of.  1    '■  | 
S.iku  i,.i)mi>a  monaslerv,  ii.  6» 
Sdt  caravans,  li.  '.4,   W  1.  ,1"J 
Niltl.ikes,    t(radu.d    shMiikinn    of     1  ibelan, 

1.  iji;     imiiortanre  of   their   prcKluct,    Igj 
S.dutalion,    1  ibitan    form   of,    1     iSj,    no, 

J  so,  4J<i 
Sani.le  puk    convent,    ii 

m-.ir,  i 
Samkjne,  or  hermit's  1  ave,  i    JJ4 
S.mio  lsani;[«>,  riv.r.  Iish  of,  li     107 
Samy.   l.i     pa.s,     h.i.lnnjraphii  al    ami    geo- 

v;r!iphical    im|ioi'taiMe    of,    11.     W'j .      un- 

l)r..krn       continnince      of      ih.-       I  rans- 

llim.il.iva    provc.l    al,     no.    not    on    the 

s.inie  ili.iin  a.  the  AiiK.len  la,  ,i  io 
San   h.n  la  i^iss,  ii.   iio 
Sai  .ihills,  shifting,  on  the  Hrahmaputra,  11. 

Sand  s|«)Ut,  near  Amihok  yung,  11     i'> 
Saiii-ih.  n.  hu,  river,  lamp  at  the.  o     lot 
Sani;i;e  n^'amobuk,     visit     from    iluel    ol, 

il-   01 
Sai\(!mo  iHTlik  .alley,  11.  .17.S 
S.i:ii;nio  Ix  rtik  l.i  [i-iss,  li.  J77 
S.ini;r.i,  mountain,  1    2('X 
Saiijjra  p,illui  valley,  i.  i(>', 
S.i.pul,  i.  44 
Ivits.it  la  lass,  ii.  iJj 
SchiialK.1,    Rev.    .Mr,    missionary    at    Poo, 

11    417 

Searihpiirtv  from  Saka,  ii.  3451  ■:'" 
strut  lions'  ret;arilini!  u.,  .14<>,  .14q;  my 
reioKiution  of  I'emba  I  sennn  an.l  inlei- 
view  with.  14^-,1S0',  agree  to  accompany 
them  lo  Si  nioku,  .i<;o 

S'kva  monaslerv,  i.  J'4i 

Sel.i  la  pass,  1.  JI7.  »;»;  triumphant 
retlci  lions  at,  a6H 

Sile  nann  valley,  i.  3(>6,  j68 

S.  lin  ilo.  camp  al,  i-  3'i"i 

S.  lipuk  j;ompa  monastery,  abbot  of,  u. 
|i,,,;    earlhijuake  al,   _V)'» 

S.  lun«  urilu  v.iU.  V  and  K'lacier,    ii    m6 

Scmoku,  journey  to,  ii.  J5j;    mettinK  with 


^^r^!'^-^'^"<-> 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  c.<-„  :SO  TE5'   CHART  Nc    2 


1.0 


ll  I.I 


n  III  ^-s 

"  illM 

'     111= 

mil  1.8 


'•2^    IIP  1-4      IIIII.6 


^       .APPLIED    IfVl-".-^       Inc 


^1 


436 


INDEX 


'I 


1      /, 


f  il 


Govfmor    of    Saka  dzonp!    in,    355-^S'^; 

mutual  courtcbioi  dt,  ,i6o 
Senrs  yuriR  nnKmo.  11.  3^5 
Scn-kamija  la  pa.vs,  11.  10.J 
Sciikor,  nom.iiis  from,  11.  ago 
Sioyinna,  mountain,  i.   i><) 
SiTihuMK  la  !«-.»,  view  from,  ii.  6g 
Scrcdiiit;,  hill,  i.  2M1 
Sir  lam,  ur  ">;i)lii  road,"  ii.  394 
Si  rm.i  lart.^e,  ii.  40 
Scrolunt^  valley,  camp  at,  ii.  113 
Scrulun^  ^^(jmp.i  inona^lcry,  ii.  iia 
Srrjw  tsungi-,  mountain,  i.  a66 
Sirpur  l.im,  the,  i^rt-at   hiijh  road  of,  ii.  jJi 
Scrshik  Kompa  mona.-.ti-ry,  li.  34 
bcrtsaiiK  chu,    rivir,    visit    of    Tibetans   at, 

i.  J17 
Sha  kanpshara,     mountain,     ii.     302,     306, 

3'°,  3^3,  3^' 

Shak  chu,  river,  ii.  20 

Slia  la  pa.ss,  ii.  j6 

Shalunn  la  pa.-.s,  .,-  371 

Sham  valK  y,  camp  in,  i.  275 

Sham.saMK,  lamp  at,  ii.  HH 

Shanj^huk  la  pa.^s,  ii.  25,  32 

Shan^;  thu,  river,  i.  272 

Sli.ipk.'.,  I  amp  at,  ii.  gs 

Sh.ipku  chu  stream,  ii.  y7 

Sh.itt;ul,  lama  temple  at,  i.  42 

Sh.ir  l-ju,  lake,  li.  306 

Shawe,  Ur.,  l.eh,  i.  54 

Sheep,  return  of  our  missiiiK,  i-  '65;  wild, 
174;  ii.  252,  310,  3.y>;  as  patk- 
atiimals,  2.S1;,  334 

Sheep  driving,  author's  inaptitude  for,  ii. 
24g 

Shemen  tso,  lake,  camp  at,  ii.  270;  jour 
ney  along,  272 

SherrinK,  Mr.  C.  A.,  ii.  128;  kiiidiu-ss 
of,  and  Mrs.,  144 

Sheryak,  carap  in,  ii.  c)2 

Sht'y  mona'.tery,  i.  tii 

Shialunn  v.illey,  camp  near,  ii.  236 

Stub  la  yilung  v.ilIey,  i.  271 

Shinatse:  arriv.il  at,  i.  21)5-,  intervii  \v 
with  lommander  of  Chinese  t;arri-.j,., 
2gb;  remains  of  caravan  at,  297;  vi-.ited 
by  I'iUtan  oflkiaK  at,  2c;.S;  impression 
made  by  my  Chinese  passi«)rt,  2f)ij; 
permission  to  attend  New  Year  lestiv.il 
in  Tashi  lunpo,  24y,  description  ul 
Festival,  301  315;  return  Ma  UaKii's 
visit,  315;  arrangements  for  visit  to  the 
Tashi  Lama,  316;  architecture  of,  340; 
L)/onK  of,  340,  377;  siKjrts-meetiriK  at, 
341-345;    Cninese  New  Year  c.lel)ratii)n, 

i45;  ^»ruesome  funer.il  cust(jn\s,  370; 
h.isa  Government  otTuials'  visit  to  me, 
375;  arrival  of  correspondence,  377; 
assistance  rendered  by  Gulam  Kadir, 
377;  market  place  of,  37S;  system  of 
espionage  in,  379;  sketches  of  women 
in,  3S0;  variety  of  types  and  costumes, 
382;  visit  to'  Kui'.g  Gushuk,  j.'-^; 
Cliinese  inlnKUes  in,  wo;  review  of  my 
position,  3Q4.  sudden  cordiality  ..f 
authorities  in,  398;  formal  counul  held, 
ami    my    return    route    spec  ihed,    39.'* ;     a 


canine  interlude  in,  309;  preparations 
for  dcpa.'ture  from,  400;  messengers 
<lrs|,.it(  |i,,l   [lom   k.l^;.l-la-sam  tu,  il.  42 

Shipki,  village  of,  ii.  417 

Shipiii  1.1     p.i-ss,     farewell     to    Tibet     from, 

II.  417 
Shooting  competitions,  'I  ibetun,  i.  343 
Shuvo  tso.  Like,  camp  011  .shore  of,  ii.  30'> 
Shukkiir  .\li,  uniform  iheerlulacss  of,  i.  52 
bhuru  tso,    Like,    i.    21(1;     ii.    25,     terraies 
of,  33;    unusual   direction  of,   ^y,    slor:n 
on,  34 ;    sh.ii>e  of,  34 
Shyok    v.illiy,    wretched    journey    through 
till',     il.    ^30-232;       farewell     feslivjl     in 
vilLige,    232;     caravan    derelicts  in,    237; 
(aniiie     happy     event,     23.S;      cnormou.s 
wastage  of  horses  iii,   240,   245;    scarcity 
of     provender,     241;      our     complicated 
silLiatiun,  242;    miserable  camping  places, 
242,    24();     MohanimccLin    hynui    in,  24O 

Simla,  scenery  of  raihv.iy  journey  to,  i.  5; 
arrival  at,  and  welcome  by  Sir  Francis 
Younghusband,  6;  anxious  moments  in, 
7;  State  functions  in  \  ii  eregal  I'alace, 
12,  17;  ii.  420;  rickshaws  in,  i.  17; 
Ford  Kitchener's  house  in,  18;  ii.  422; 
dep.irture  from,  i.  20;  re-turn  to,  ii.  420; 
residence  in  Viceregal  I'.ilace,  i.  13; 
ii.  42r;  ho-pit.ilily  oi  Colonel  Uunlop 
Smith  and  Ixjrd  Kitchener,  420,  422; 
lee. ure  before  the  \iceregal  (ourt,  421; 
good  bye  to  my  Ladakis  and  Little 
l''il>[)y  in,  422 

Sind,  valley  of  the,  i.  35 

Singi  buk,  cami)  at,  ii.  210 

Siiigi  c  hava,  ii.  212 

Singi  Kabab,  source  of  the  Indus,  ii.  310, 
212 

Sin;'i  tsangjio,  or  Iniius,  ii.  210 

Singi  yura,  ii.  212 

Singrul,  camp  at,  i.  65 

Sire  hung,  village  of,  i.  421; 

Skulls    as    drinking  vessels,    Liktse-gompa, 

ii-  75 
Sledges,  on  the  Ngangtselso,  1.   226 
Small[)OX  ejiidc-mic  at   Purang,  ii.  92 
"Snoring    Kuiuhuk,"    ii.    299,    m;     new 

title  for,  379 
Snow-storm,  a  terrific,  ii.  2fto 
Sogbarong      Tsering      Tunduji,      Tibetan 

nomad,  ii.  2S8 
Soma  t.sangi«),     river,     camp    at,     ii.     3.S0; 

journey  along  the,  3.^(1 
Sonam   Ngurbu,  Governor  of  Chokchu,  ii. 

,V)'t 
Sonamarg,  bivouac  at,  i.  37 
Sonam  Tsering,  leader  of  advance  caravan, 

i.  51;    in  charge  of  the  mule-s,  72;    Jioints 

out  Ueasy's  depot,  129 
So  valley,  i.  2.S4 
Source  of  the  Brahmaputra,  ii.  96,   101;    of 

the  Sutlej,   129,   153,   i8o;    of  the  Indus, 

212 
Spanglung  valley,  camp  near,  i.  78 
Spittol  mona.stery,  i.  45 
SiKirts,  'I'ibetan,  i.  341-345 
Srinagar,    scenery    of    journev    to,    i.     22; 

.;-:v.d    at,    23;     dinner-table    concerninc 


INDEX 


437 


author,  34;  interview  with  thr  Maharaji 
of  Kashmir's  priviUc  secretary,  34,  fdtc 
at,  27;  equipment  of  caravan,  3>; 
departure  fmru,  ■  ,  puppii-s  taken 
from,  34;  plat--<  nd  loik  specimens 
sent  to,  10 ^ 

Sron^  Isan  Ganpo,  w.es  of,  i.  3jj 

Stagma  Kompa  monastery,  i.  6j 

Stockholm,  departure  from,  i.  4 

Slok,  the  Kaja  of,  letter  of  recommenda- 
tion from,  i.  57,  jg.s 

Stoliczka,  I)r.,  monument  in  Leh,  i.  <;.> 

Stone,   imI■rc^^;ons   in,  i.    337,    406 

Stopka,  vill^ue  of,  i.  57 

Siorm,  a  thlrty-day.^',  ii.  3K3  fT. 

Sulphur  spriiiRs,  Chuta  district,  i.  83;  in 
PorunR    valley,    jby;     at    the    Chumt  tso, 

SultaL,  i.  67 

Sumdang  tsangpo,  river,  ii.  398 

Sun,  eclipse  of  the,  i.  352 

Sung  chu,  river,  ii.  i8i 

Sunge  la  pass,  ii.  400 

Sur  la  pass,  ii.  393 

Sutlcj,  the,  source  of,  ii.  i3(),  153,  i.'^o, 
iH,s;  old  l>cd  of,  181;  Tibetan  name  of, 
and  as.ierlions  as  to  its  origin,  ihs; 
translation  of  Chinese  extract  .is  to  its 
source,  1,^3;  its  source  and  that  of  the 
Tage-lsang])o  the  same,  1M4,  1K8;  ac- 
curacy of  Chi  Chao  Nan's  statements 
regarcJinK,  lA^;  Colonel  Burrard  on 
drainage  area  of,  187 

Tabie-tsaka,  lake,  salt-caravans  from,  ii, 
64,  333;    location  of  the,  333;    view  of, 

Tagar,  village  of,  i.  64 

Tage  bup  valley,  ii.  105 

Tage  tsangpo  river,  ii.  105,  107;  measure- 
ments of,  i2q;  its  source  that  of  the 
Sutlej,  1H4,  iSH 

Tagia  Isering,  thief  of  Sangge-ngamo-buk, 
visit  from,  ii.  ^H.^ 

Tagrak  tsangpo,  river,  i.  a6i,  364 

Tagramoche  district,  bivouac  in,  ii.  105 

Takbur  district,  high-handed  U-haviour  of 
chief  of,  ii.  49,  50;  abundance  of  game 
in,  50 

Takliur  la  p.tss,  ii.  50 

Takkar,  our  Tibetan  dog,  ii.  305,  307, 
319;  his  antipathy  to  Tibetans,  333, 
377;  devours  wolf-cub,  399;  returns  to 
Poo,  418 

Takyung  Lama,  abbot  of  Mendong-gompa, 
ii.  315,  31.S 

Ta  la,  or  "Horse  Pass,"  view  from,  i.  378 

7'^ik,in,  or  roasted  meal,  i.  53 

T.imbak  valley,  ii.  84 

Tam(  hdk  kamba  (lirahmaputra),  river,  i. 
,40,?.  4>7 

Tamluni;  la   p.'  s,   important   watershed  of, 

ii.    104,    I2Q 

Tamluni;  t~o,  lake,  ii.  104 

Tan.ik   (black   Horse)   valley,   camp   in,   i. 

aSfi,  40 ? 
Tanak  |)Uihu  valley,  i.  286 
Tang  Darin.     See  Chang  Vin  Tang 


Tangna,  vill.ige  of   i.  417 

Tang  yung  province,  Tibetan  visitors  from, 
i    313,  314 

Tang  yung  tsaka,  lake,  i.  308 

Tanku,  or  pictorial  banker,  i.  318 

Tankse,  auxiliary  horses  hired  from,  i.  50, 
O7;  camp  ami  rest  at,  67;  festivities  in 
caravan  at,  bs,  men  from,  petition  to  be 
allowed  to  return  h(jme,  103;  parting 
with  my  Ladakis  at,  ii    335 

Tankse,  river,  i.  67 

larbung-la  pass,  ii.  35 

Tarchen  labrang,  ii.  190,  108,  203 

Targo-gangri,  view  of  the,  ii.  30,  33,  381; 
glaciers  uf,  35,  32;    terraces  of,  36,  30 

largo  tsangpo,  river,  ii.  31;  valley  of,  33; 
our  progress  stopjK-d  at  the,  36 

Targot  la  pas-,  ii.  30 

Targyaling  gompa  monastery,  camp  below, 
ii.  64;  intolerant  behaviour  of  lamas  of, 
65;    plundered  by  robbers,  315 

Tarmatse  tso,  lake,  i.  314 

1  .irok  [so,  lake,  position  of,  ii.  335;  dc- 
s<ri^)ed,  391 

Tiirfiochr,  or  votive  pole,  i.  380 

Tarting  choro,  village  of,  i.  404 

Tarting  gompa  monastery,  i.  383,  405; 
sepulchres  of  high  priests  of,  406;  pre- 
parations for  deceased  lama's  funeral 
pyre  at,  407 ;  reflections  on  monastic  life, 
408 

Tasam,  or  high-road  station,  ii.  41 

Ta-sang  la  pass,  ii.  84 

Tashi,  despatched  to  Shigatse,  ii.  43;  his 
return  and  adventures,  71 

Tashi  gembc  monastery,  i.  318,  411;  the 
two  'iilx'tan  Bibles  in,  413;  temples  of, 
413;  incongruous  Euroiiean  figures  in, 
413;  prayer-cylinders  in,  413;  brilliant 
(olouring  of,  414 

Tashi  Lama,  the  increased  prestige  of,  i. 
}°7-  3'3i  Itindness  to  us  at  New  Year 
Festival,  310;  my  visit  to,  317;  dress 
and  general  appearance  of,  319;  his 
kindly  reception  of  author,  319;  intel- 
ligence and  shrewd  questions  of,  330, 
354;  his  pleasant  recollections  of  Indian 
visit,  331;  widespread  power  of,  333; 
previous  visits  of  Kuroi>tans  to,  333; 
attributes  and  functions  of  the  Lialai 
Lama  and,  323;  favours  granted  to 
author  by,  334;  medicine  chest  pre- 
sented to,  335;  ineflaceable  impressions 
left  by,  335,  35 ^;  ceremonies  observed 
on  the  approaching  death  of  a,  337; 
methoci  of  chcxjsing  his  succes.sor,  327; 
mausoleums  of  previous  Tashi  Lamas, 
3:sc;  record  length  of  service  of  fir-^t, 
331;  visit  of  third  Tashi  I^ma  to  Pekin, 
334;  footprint  of,  337;  photograph  taken 
of,  354;  presents  gifts  to  author,  355; 
rigidly  prescribed  life  of,  356;  his  anxiety 
regarding  author,  393;  farewell  greetings 
from,  403 
Tashi  lunpo:  New  V'ear  Festival  in,  i.  301- 
3i'i;  a  doLster  town,  330;  the  Labrang, 
330;  aeri.U  street  system  in,  330;  mauso 
ieums  of   earlier  Tashi    Laaus,  330-338, 


i^^.  M^^m^kmmf^^^^Mm^^'mm^^ 


^^ 


I 


,1 


1 


I  • 


V    ! 


4.5^ 


INDEX 


(latr  of  fntindation,  ,?3i;  libran-  of,  ^u. 
T,  i(,.  tcm|ilc  of  'r.^jng  Kap.i,  ,Vi5 ;  ^  •"■»'  "'' 
st.iir.av,  vi;;  (liTr.il  tiilors  in.  ,ii^; 
rcliciou'*  iiTcmonies  witnessed,  .U'"*  'f  ■ 
graiic^  .ukI  numlxTs  of  nionks.  ,?si,  }^i. 
Ix'lls  of,  iS';  i""~  ■""'  pilgrims  in,  i- i, 
i^fy.  author's  iiitirviiw  will)  tliL  1  .i.-,lii 
Lama,  .;5i;  pilKrims'  di-voiion  il  cxir- 
(isi-s  in,  U7;  .sources  of  imomc,  ,?!«; 
monks'  lifi.-  in,  .?<;■<,  ^''<>■,  pray.r  mills 
of  -(fm;  tea  a  favourite  bcvcrai;c  in, 
^i;',,,"  ji'ii,  kill  hi-n  of,  itit;  the  wallm« 
up  of  (irtaln  monks,  xh^;  the  IJi-na- 
IhakanK  ti-mplf,  .!''5;  rnanufaiturc  of 
imapes,  367;  funtral  customs,  jOy;  last 
visit  to,  VM 

Tayep  parva  la  pass,  ii.  307 

Tea,  Tilx'tan,  i.  247;  nionk-s  fondness  tor, 
in  Tashi  lunpo,  3?o:  enormous  infusions 
of,  361 

Tea  I»ts,  rosllv,  1.  ^>o 

Tehrran,  Christmas  1905  spent  in,  11.  24S 

'ivia  mata  la  jiass,  ii.  ,V)7 

Telegrams  lo  British  Prime  Minister,  i.  \ 

300 

Temixrature,  sud<len  rhanRC  of,  1.  71;; 
records  of  low,  I'^'i,  173,  "Jli  ^°7i  'v^' 
274;  lowest  recorded  liy  author  in  Asia, 
ii.  J59 

Temple,  lama,  I.  4» 

Tnii;a,   ril«tan  coin,  i    5f> 

Teri  nam  tso,  "the  heavenly  lake,"  ii.  3S1 ; 
its  salinity,  3S4;  journey  aloiiR  southern 
shore,  3S4;  dilTerent  pronunciations,  and 
meaning  of  the  name,  3H4;  extent  of, 
and  height  atxive  se.i  level,  3.S4 

TerkunR-rung  valley,  Lha.sa  caravan  in, 
i.     370;     importan.e    of    road    through, 

»7° 

Teta  la  pass,  view  from,  ii.  3S0 

Th.ikkur  Jai  Chand,  Garlok,  ii.  107,  315. 
417;    provisions  and  letters  from,  144 

Thirteen,  the  number,  prominence  of,  in 
author's  journey,  i.  20,  J4T,   »•  ^Sf" 

Thirty  d.ivs'  storm,  a,  ii.  2X3  tt. 

'iilMtan  (iovernment,  the  vindictive  treat- 
ment of  the  Governor  of  Naktsang  by,  i. 
243,  251,  376;  proclamation  on  retiral  of 
British  expedition,  245;  author  visited 
by  two  omci.d-s  from,  375,  376;  system 
of  spies,  370;  orders  to  author  to  leave 
the  country,  3H8;  increased  stringency 
of,  regarding  Kuropeans,  ii.  356 

TilHtan   language,   author's   lessons   in,    ii. 

^"  ,  ^  ,  ■ 

Tigu  tans,  dangerous  roadway  ot,  1.  4,^0 

I'ik/^e,  mon.astery  and  village  of,  i.  61 ;  camp 

at,  02 

Tini;-la  pass,  view  from,  ii.  u 

i'irt.ipuri  monastery,  parting  with  followers 

at,  ii.  416 

Titles,    high-sounding,    applied    to   author, 

"■  i<n 
Toa-n.idsum,  bivou.ac  at,  1.  262 
I'okcheii,  the  Gova  of,  ii.   107,   no:    cara- 
van   reduced    at,     107;     valley    of,     no; 
eturn  to,  400.   departure  from,  415 
To.   jonsung,  bivouac  at,  ii.  91 


Tokpas,  Tibetan  gold  diggers,  i.  iSq 
Tomlis  of  the  Tashi  l.a.nas,  i.  330-i.!'* 
ToiiL',  the  Gova  of,  i.  424 
I  orig  tso,  bivouac  on  shore  of  the,  11.  30J 
longue,  protrusion  of  the,    lilK'tan  saluta- 
tion, i.    240,  2H0,  42[) 

lo<jth,   Mr.   l.ucas,  the  la,st  European  seen 

hv  author  for  two  years,  i.  71 
Toi'n'lius,      Christmas      song  of    the   poet, 

([uoted,  i.  2ig 
Tormakaru,  mountain,  i.  264 
'iorno  shapko,  unfriendliness  of  nomads  at, 

'    - '  7  ,  . 

Totling  eompa    monastery,   news   from   the 

outer  world  at,  ii.  4"'' 

Tova  tova,  ili>tria  of,  i.  262 

Tradum,  the  Go.a  of,  ii.  60,  6g,  70,  73, 
.S3;  camp  at  village  of,  72;  cxi  ursion 
from,  73  ..  ... 

Tradum  gompa  monastery,  11.  73;  hermits 
dwelling  at,  73 

Tranv Himalaya,  the,  author's  first  cross- 
ing of,  i.  2'!"';  geographical  and  climatic 
imi«irt.iiue  of,  27i,  ii.  20,  3;;  approach 
to  main  1  rest  of,  13;  seiond  crossing  of, 
ig;  third  <  rossing,  35;  fourth  an<l  nfth 
(ros.^ings  of,  200,  215;  si-xth  crossing, 
2)g;  its  unspoken  continuance  proved, 
j'^o;  seventh  and  eighth  crossings,  377, 
400;  previous  attempts  to  map  out,  and 
lKK)k.s  treating  of,  401-405;  K.vder  and 
\ViH)d'3  bearings  of,  40.';;  statement 
regarding  vsall  ma|«  in  Venice,  4oS<; 
previou,,lv  unknown  passes  crossed  by 
author,  400;  length  and  breadth  of,  and 
average  height  of  (asses,  410;  gener^d 
coniiiarisiin  of,  with  the  Him.Uayan 
svstem,  410;  author's  rea-son  for  u.se  of 
name,  412;  opinions  for  and  against  the 
title,  412,  413  „  „  .    •  J 

Trcatv,    new,    between    Great    Britain   and 

Kus-ia,  ii.  221 
Tree,  miraculous,  in  Kum-bum  monastery, 

'   .''5  ...  ...        _ 

Tsa  ehu  tsangpo,  river,  junction  with  upper 

Brahmaputra,  ii.  74 

Tsaktserkan,  author's  official  attendant  in 
Shigatse,  i.  ;o2,  353 

Tsalam  nakta  la  pass,  ii.  376 

'l'\amha,  or  parched  meal,  i.  lit, 

Tsangpo  (Upper  Hrahmajiutra),  river,  i. 
2.S4;  formation  ami  fertility  of  valley, 
2.H4,  2.Ss;  varving  nomenclature  of,  2H7; 
description  of  l»ats  on,  2S8;  varied 
scenery  of,  2go,  203;  daydreams  on, 
2qi;  pilgrim  parties  on,  292,  293;  dust- 
storms,  402,  40^ 

Tsasa  la  pas-.,  ii.  7; 

Tsechung  tso,  lake,  ii.  95 

Tsepmaged,  seated  figure  of  Buddha,  1. 
3ss 

Tsering,  cook  to  author,  1.  152;  loquacity 
of,  H7,  1(11;   vocal  lK)wers  of,  ii.  13 

Tsering  Diva,  Tilx-tan  nomad,  i.  1S9,  191 

'Tseti  la  pass.  ii.  208 

Tsi'ti  l.uhen  la  pass.  ii.  209 

'Tso.  di-tritt  of,  ii.  Ho 

Tso  kharki-lsangpo,  river,  ii.  80 


INDEX 


439 


wool- 


T«>  mavanK.     See  M.inas.irow.ir 

Tson«  KafKi,  temple  of,  in    1  .ishi  lunpo,  i. 

<);,    0j;     refi-rnis    I.amai^ni    .iml   intro 

(lutf-,  niondslii.  t    lil>afy,  ,w> 
Tson^un    Tashi.  n  'Tihant  from  Lhasa,  ii. 

-^o\    in;     purih.ises    from,    315;     visits 

our  ranp,  jih;    his  suspicions,  317 
T^  riiti,  [)Ools  of,  ii    qi 
Tsn  niti-karKanR  [vis^,  li.  gj 
Tso  nvak,  lake,  ii.   106 
Tso  ri',  or  "  I.akrMountain,"  the,  i.  aiQ 
Tsotot  karpo,  lake,  ii.  S? 
Tsuki  hijnK-(  hariK  pass  i    4  1  7 
Tsumtoi  pu  mona-stcry,  hivouac  on  roof  of, 

ii.   202 

TubRc,  huntsman  to  caravan,  ii.  u.l 
TuRclcn  Kompa  monastery,  i.   409;    statues 
in,  410 

TuRri-ia  pa.ss,  ii.  10,1 

TuRu  Eomjia    monastery,    ii.     1,10; 

market  at,  no;  intoresting  picture  in, 
Ml,  shrine  of  lake;;™!  in,  131;  monkV 
oftennR  to  their  ^mhI  on  author's  Ix-half, 
145;  tran^lati<>n  of  iiisi  ripiion  in,  154 

TuR     hamo,  hiicht,  i.  jo(> 

Tuksum,  the  Gova  of,  ii.  H6;  Rrants  per- 
miv-ion  for  caravan  to  travel  on  south 
side  of  river,  t*7 

Tumsanp  valley,  i    J6S 

Tun(li.[)  Sonam,  huntsman  to  caravan,  1. 
ni,  MO,  >44,  I'o,  i;4,  I'M,  11^';  >lc- 
spal  heri  to  ShiRat.se,  ii.  42;  his  return 
and  adventures,  71 

Turke-tan,     Ka.stern,    osten-ihle    otyect 
expedition,    i.    23,    2^:     msstxirt    tor,    re- 
quested     from      Swedish      Minister      in 
IxDn  Ion,  25 

Tuta,  :amp  at,  ii.  .^Rq 

Tuto  ;)ukpa,  mountain,  ii.  72 

Tyncbung  valley,  camp  in,  ii.  104 

Upyu,   Tibetan    youth,    hh    wonderful  re- 

cosiry  from  bullet-wound,  ii.  46 
Vjam  tso,  lake,  ii.  H5 
Umlx:  district,  camp  in  the,  ii.  91 
Ushy,  villaRe  of,  ii.  361 
I'shva  pass,  ii.  361 
I'terisils,  Tibetan  domestic,  ii.  15 

Vczir  Vezarat,  the,  i.  41:  author's  head- 
quirters  in  house  of,  at  Leh,  45 

Vicergal  Palace,  Simla,  State  functions 
in,  i.  12,  17;  ii.  420;  author's  quarters 
in,;.  13;   ii.  420;  (lescription  of,  i.  14 

Vultues,  abandonment  of  Tibetan  dead  to 
the  i.  371;  ii.  n 

VVadcell,  work  on   Buddhism  by,  cited,  i. 
n  :    opinion   on   monastic  seclusion, 
on  Tibetan  satrcd  formula,  204 


of 


i'^ 


A  akka,  river,  i.  41 

U.ilkir,   Ur.  Gilbert,  Simla,  presents  from, 

\\  dli  ntx-rR,    ITr-r   G.   O,  Swedish  Ambas- 

v.idor  in  I'ekin,  i.   jgi 
Wall  p.iintinRs  in   TuRu  Rompa,  ii.  ijo 
Weather,  Titx-tan,  i.  74,  «•■*■  QO,  160 
WcMht,    Thomas,  on  sources  of  the  Brah- 
maputra, ii.  ^g 
Whisky,  a  tonii  for  mules,  ii.  3'>o,  264 
"Wilderness,  the  fall  of  the,"  i.   i 
Wolves,    persiateniy    of,    i.    143.    '6»,    178. 

Women,    descriptions   of   ShiRatse,    i.    3.S0; 

uniform  dirtiness  of,  353.  i^ 
Wool  market  in  TuRu  Rompa,  ii.  130 
Wr.uiRcl,      fount,      Sweihsh      Minister      in 

London,   passport  requested  from,  i.   2^, 

2'I9 

Yaks,  as  lioa^ts  of  burden,  i.  75,  183,  iq«; 
ii  64,  321,  i2Q.  abundance  of  wild,  1. 
173;     kehim    All's    adventure    with    a. 

^  .illoa  Champa,   holy  apartment   in   Tashi- 

lunrio,  i.  3,?2  ..,,-,-       L    L 

Vainlu,  lieutenant  to  chief  of  Tarok-shung, 

ii.  31)0 
Vanii  huk,  village  of,  11.  80 
Namchuk  pu  valley,  ii.  80 
VanRRO-Rompa  monasterv',  ii.    I2q,   MJ 
Yafykak,  plant  used  as  forage  and  fuel,    1. 

«.'.  9> 

Vere  tsangpo,  river,  1.  281 

■ieshil  kul,  lake,  view  of,  i  no;  antelope- 
traps  at,  iiq;  intense  saltness  of,  120; 
soundings  on,  120;  choice  between 
shipwreck  and  wolves,  122;  storm  on, 
ii4;  a  freezinp  night,  125;  Deasy  s 
depot  discovered  by  Rawling,  129;  pre- 
vious travellers'  visits,  130 

Ve  shung  valley,  camp  in,  i.  281,  409; 
monasteries  in,  411 

Yildan,  hunters  from,  ii.  257 

VimU  Tashi,  abbot  of  Lunga  gompa.  i. 
431  , 

Vounghusban.i,  Sir  Francis,  welcomes 
author  to  Simla,  i.  6;  expedition  to 
Lhasa  referred  to,  ii;  parting  with,  20; 
letter  as  to  pasisport  from,  26;  recom- 
mends  Muhamed   Isa  to  author,   30,   46 

VulRunluk,  ii.  235 

Vumlximatsen,  ii.  215 

Yungchen,  order  of  priesthood,  i.  3S1 

Zambul,    Numberdar    of    Pobrang,    i.    73i 

87  .       . 

Zoii  la  pass,  difficulties  of  caravan  in  the, 

'    38  .  ,.       . 

Zugmayer,  Austnan  naturalist,  1.  130 


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A     MAP     OF 

nJAXS-  II  I  MAL  V  VA    w 

By  Dr.  SVEN    HEDIN.  <1^ 

t:omMl.,i  b,  Lie.iUMiant  C    J    Otto    Kje:iM,n,„,  )^m. 
^rale  1    I  000000. 


Tl.r 


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v> 


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'pi'V  ntiices,  ,i...  ruiinber-eo 

■^eignts  abov.-  s.a  leve*  ,m  English 
f»  et  .'b,0  ,'1) 

«2 


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Di;.    S\  KN     IIKDINS     KOl'IKS 

Cu...pil^"^l   b>   Lieutenant  C.  J.  Otlo   Kjellstrom, 


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SHOWING 

IIKDINS     Kor  1  LS 

1906     190S 
Iby  Lieutenant  C.  J    Otto   Kjellstioiii. 


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4 


SIR    FRANCIS   YOUNGHUSBANUS 

Kashmir 

With  70  [ilatcs  hy  MaJ'R    F.   M"!  vski'X 

ChiM,  S:n,  tf>.oo  »ft 

Ka^htiur  i<  rrnnwnivl  throiigtMut  the  w<irM  for  the  lieauly  of  its  natural  •.<  ctvry 
an.l  Iht  salulirity  iif  Its  iliniatc.  It  is  a  Swn/crlan  1  in  Asia,  Imt  nn  a  Kf'i'l^r 
utak-,  w]th  liiltitr  mountains  ami  ni.ire  wi.le-llunj;  larnUeapi  s.  I  he  presiTit  li.iok 
ili-Mrihri  with  [icn  anJ  hru^h  the  variety  (il  natural  l>t.auty  in  the  iliHcrcnt 
»cas<  ns  if  the  year.  It  also  k"""*  ^"I"<^  aici.unt  of  the  Lliief  places  uf  interest, 
i.f  the  pcipli-,  anl  ..f  their  ^;.lvernnlcnt.  Ihc  seventy  full-page  culor  illustrati..ni 
arc  all  uf  rciiiark.ihle  cxLtUenLC. 

A.  V.  W.  JACKSON'S 
Persia,   Past  and   Present 

IllutlraleJ,  doth,  Svo,  t/  00  net 

"Trofessor  Ji.  ks  .n's.ic.  mint  ailniiral.lv  fulliklhc  pmmise  of  the  title  of  tlie  volume. 
Saturated  with  th.'  history  an.)  literature  of  the  anuent  kinijiliim,  hefure  making 
his  personal  aLi|uaintani.e  with  the  country  un.ler  its  4iioclcrn  aspects,  the  author 
was  able  to  assimilate  his  uflen  ha/y  impressions  with  a  ihoruughness  impossiLile 
to  the  ordinary  traveller."  —  A'ru/  i'ori  Tribu,.e. 


FREDERICK    MOORE'S 
The  Balkan  Trail 

Illustrated,  doth,  Svo,  t-J.^o  net 

"Mr.  Moore  writes  his  story  so  that  the  reader  almost  sees  what  the  author 
saw.  Me  descril.es  the  outrages  by  the  Turks,  the  murders  by  the  brigands, 
and  little  humorous  incidents  with  cjii.tI  facility,  and  he  tinds  an  abundant 
variety  of  topics  during  his  expedition."  —  /u'ston  Tninstri/t. 


HENRY   SAVAGE    LANDOR'S 
Tibet  and  Nepal 

Colored  illustrations,  Sto,  $j.oo  net 

"The  book  is  decidedly  agreeable  and  even  exciting  reading,  and  presents  in 
many  ways  an  intimate  picture  of  the  life  of  the  Tibetans  and  their  innumerable 
curious  customs.    The  colored  pictures  are  striking  and  effective."  —  The  Outlook. 


PUBLISHED    BV 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 


JACOB    KUSS 
The  Old    lown 

A'.'u  i<  it'J,  .  ilh,  ijm.\  tj.no  ntt 

In  lliis  ilrln;lilfiil  I10..U   Mr.  Kii<  wfitM  uf  lus  l.-.l. I  li   nir.  Ilir  .|u.-fr  ..l.|  .ii> 

.)f  Kil.c.  Ihfla-I.iri  aliiit.r.>tsaii  I  LiiHliiaik-  ■■!  Kii.c  arc  iii.iny,  »iil  li<-fc  ih.y 
are  %- 1  l.rf,,rr  u-  »iih  ihal  sain  ■  »vnipalliv.  i-x|.tt.»i..n,  an.l  larc  l..r  .Irtail  »lii  li 
tnal.k  I  Mr.  I\ii»  t..  jutart-  111  *■•  ni.ii.l.i.  a  itjaniifr  ili.  lifi-  nf  thr  Nt-w  V.Tk  I  ity 
slum  .Iwrlli-rs.  \ivi.l  |M,rtra\als  .1  lilr  in  Ihr  -M  .la\>.  .f  ihi'  si".rU  an.l  (rank* 
i;f  ilul  Ircn.  uf  till-  mn.iu..  anl  .juaint  imlMin.,  ..f  llair  fl  Itrs,  aSuunl  in  i»cry 

vtiapKr  an  1  |.r. .claim  ll n.  ^sa^.'  ..I  llu-  ..1.1  t..wn;'      Mr.  Hi-ii.la  in  hi>  pKturi.> 

'ia»  liccn  ^iiikiii^jly  su^toslul  in  niJiiplcinenUng  Mr.  KinS  wutk. 


K.  V.   LUCAS'S 

A   Wanderer  in    Paris 

(;•!,:>■/,/  tilu.li.iliort',  iuih,  iJ"i<\  1/  rj  ntl 
'•Mr.  Lucas  M-.m<  never  ti  have  f..rj;  ttcn  ai.Mliin^;  lliat  hr  has  i,ncc  rc»>l,  an.l 
he  has  all  his  r(.s..uri  is  un  tap  at  thr  n-lil  111  ni-nt  ;  s.t  .tie  ncM-r  f<fl»  a  »ensc 
of  suH.Katn.n  fr..ni  his  pr..fuM..n.  t  Mir's  .l.ar.^t  «i,h  may  1..-  that  Mr,  I.u^a* 
shall  luc  l.nu  cn..m;h  t.)  «•>  i.n  ali.a.l  tu  all  the  utKs  (.ne  «ants  lu  know  in  the 
way  he  ah.nc  .4  guidts  is  ahlc  tu  in5trui.t  u»."  —  LiUrary  DiiHt. 

CF.CIL    HI  ADl.AMS 

Venetia  and   Northern    Italy 

Ol.l  Worl.l  Iravil  .Scries  i:iu  tr.itrd,  doth,  S;o,  S-'  jO  nfl 

"Cecil  Ileallani  has  a  happy  art  ..f  making  Loik-.  about  places,  in  wliuh  he 
mingles  hist.iry  an  1  art  with  scenery  an  I  pers.inal  impressi  .ns.  .  .  .  1  he  im- 
pression he  makes  is  that  ..f  an  intelligent  an.l  sympathetic  companion,  wIm 
never  discourses  l..ng  enough  oil  any  juli|cc  t  t.i  weary  his  hearers.  .  .  .  1  herr 
arc  Iwenty-live  full-page  illustrati.ms  in  color  by  (L.r.h.n  Hume."—  1  he  Xrw 
Yurk  I'ost. 

GORDON    HOMf.'S 

Along  the   Rivieras  of  France  and   Italy 

ol.l  World  Travel  Scries  lHuHiatfJ.  iU'lh,  S:o.  $J,;o  ntt 

"  It  has  alw-iys  been  Mr  Il..me's  pleasant  habit  to  illustrate  his  !)ooks  of  travel 
with  his  own  pictures,  an.l  its  pursuance  in  '.\l.>ng  the  Rivieras  of  Irance  an.l 
Italy'  has  produced  a  volume  in  which  the  hrillunt  descriptions  of  the  text  are 
rivalleil  by  twenty-tivc  colored  plates,  many  of  them  extraordinarily  happy  in 
their  reproduction,  an.l  about  twenty  ilrawings  in  black  and  white.  •  ■  •  '^ 
better  guide  f..r  comfortable  library  or  study  travel  could  not  be  devised."—  The 
Boslon  J  ram^rift. 


PUBLISHED    BY 

THE   MACMH.LA\   COMPANY 

64-66  Fifth  Av«nua    New  York 


WILLIAM    F-..    C  ARSONS 

Mexico,   tin-   Woiulcrland  of  the  Scuith 

/uM'itaif,/,  ,:.ll>,  t.-mo,  $j.ij  HH 
Mr  f'Arv.n  kn.,w,  M,  ,„  m  ll,..r,,uKhlv,  an. I  hr  ha»  .liiwn  an  a..uratf  an.l 
faviimtin;,'  |.rn  piiiiirc  I.I  ill.- .  ..untty  and  ..f  ihr  pr,.,.|...  ,,f  ihnr  rvrrylav  lilr 
■  n.l  ihf  .vrr\.lay  .n;ht,  ai>'l  nirnr,.  It  w,.uM  It  hafl  I..  .Ii.c.vcr  anMhing 
Worth  •.r.Mni;  that  hr  ha»  n-t  «rn.  Mr  ha^  wan  Irrr.l  amutvl  the  M.xi,  an 
capital  an-l  ■  ih.-r  ..1,|  .,t,.-,  ,  l,r  h.i,  rxpl.Tfl  ilit-  ^;,.1,|  a,„l  vivrr  minr,  an.! 
viMl.l  »...n.-.,fih.-  ,,u3.nt  l....hh  rr...rt%.  h--  ha»  ^;  m-  nmunUin  ,  l,M,l„n»;  an  I 
t«rp..n  h.hinn  -arvl  hr  l,IU  .f  ihrM-  nianv  fxp.r.riMr^  in  a  n...,i  rn>;.iK,i,>; 
mann-T.  Many  .  lur->  .  f  ,  nn-.m  aii'l  inil-.f  thr»»y  pjacfs  a.j.l  yrtatly  l..  lit 
hcauty  an.l  t..  ihr  valiir  ..(  ihr  I.  ...k  f.r  travillrrn  an. I  general  rea.icrj. 

DR.    VVILFRKI)    T.   (.RKNFKLI/S 

Labrador:   The  t'oimtry  and  the   People 

In  this  v(.Uinu-  I  .r  Cr.nf,  II  sup|,|„.s  thr  nnly  full  an  I  a.lf.,iiatr  a. cunt  of 
Iabr.Tl..r  -ih.-  c.iintrv,  it*  n.ilural  r..s.,uK«,  thf  dinuti.  ,  .n.jiti  n*.  an.l  iti 
pe,.pl<-.  In  a.|lil,..n  t,.  th-  m.iin  l.u.lv  ..f  the  h,,..k.  «itl,  ,ls  <hapl,-r»  on  rhvjj- 
..Rraphv,  tl,.-  Pr,  ,.|u  ,1  thr  I  o.„t,  th.-  M.ss„,ns,  the  !)..>;,,  thr  variou,  K.shff.rv 
thrrr  arc  ^h..rt  ihaplrrs  on  Ihr  H,,ra,  the  launa,  thr  (Irolojjv,  cu  .,  ra,  h  l.v  a 
tcirntillcaiilh..r  ..f  Man.l.ni;.  rhrvl-mic,  pr..fusrly  il!uslr.itr,l  fr.,m  |'h..toj;ra|.h« 
in  thr  author's  ,,un  iolk-ai..n,  rrvcaU  an  unknown  lanl  to  the  vast  majority 
of  rrailers. 


ELLA    HIC;(;iNSON'S 

Alaska  :   The  (ireat   Country 


lllu.tratt.l,  (loth,  limn,  li.j^  ntt 


"No  other  Look  gives  ,o  dear  an  impression  ..f  tlir  beauty  an.l  Rran.lenr  an.l 
vastness  of  our  northrrnm..st  trrrit.,ry,  n..r  s..  inspires  onr  to  expL.rr  its  vast- 
ness.-s.  She  h.is  min«l<-.!  rn..uKh  ..f  hist,.ry  an.l  slatisti.s  t..  makr  it  auth.-nta- 
tivr.  a„!  has  emi.rllishr.l  thr  talr  with  st..rir5  an.l  anroL.trs  t.,  prevent  lis 
hcinR  .lull,  ..n.l  h.is  succee.le.l  in  wr.lint;  «hat  nii^ht  well  hr  .allcl  a  jjrcat  hook 
on  a  great  sul.).a."—  Ihr  Jialon  l-.ventnf;  /r.im.rtfl. 

JAMFS   OUTRAM'S 

In   the   Heart  of  the  Canadian    Rockies 

lltmtp.iteJ,  rl^ih.  Sro,  $2.^0  ntl 
"It  is  so  inspire.!  with  the  glories  .,f  the  m.,untains,  their  sublime  solitu.les  an.i 
siKnces,  an.l  their  fas,  m.iting  perils  that  ,t  might  well  be  called  the  epic  of 
American  mountaineering."  —  It'or.W  I c-Jay. 


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Among  English   Hedgerows 

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The   Isle  of  t'te  Shamrock 

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"A  mcst  interesting  book,  full  of  lively  sketches  and  anecdotes."  — /<!«</<'« 
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The  Land  of  Heather 

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"Not  only  Scotchmen,  but  every  student  of  human  natjre  will  be  pleased  with 
this  entertaining  book.  It  describes  typical  people  and  scenes  with  much 
sympathy  and  appreciation."  —  Brooklyn  Standard  Union. 

AMERICAN  HIGHWAYS  AND  BYWAYS  SERIES 
Highways  and  Byways  of  the  Mississippi  Valley 

Illustrated,  cloth,  Svo,  $2.00  net 

Highways  and  Byways  of  the  South 

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Highways  and  Byways  of  the  Pacific  Coast 

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New  England  and  Its  Neighbors 

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The  Picturesque  Hudson  illustrated, doth, i2mo,%i. 25 net 


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